The Returned
by Alisha Ashton
Summary: Doyle returns...as a Big Bad. Can Angel find a way to fix this twisted version of his lost friend? What atrocities will Cordelia suffer in her attempts to bring back the man she loves? Set end of S-1 takes series on a new path Horror/Comedy/Action/Romance
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **

I do not own any of the characters of the shows Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series....**HOWEVER**...the plots and concepts in this fiction are **mine** and have been published through this site. Don't steal them. Besides, how tacky is ripping off someone's fanfiction? *shakes head*

This fiction is **rated R** for a good reason. It contains sex (though not raunchy), _implied_ rape (meaning no graphic descriptions are given), violence, occasional profanity, graphic descriptions of torture, etc. and I've been told I convey imagery rather well with words. Ask yourself if you're alright with me painting these pictures in your minds ahead of time or forever hold your peace.

You've been forewarned, this was not written for the faint of heart.

For the purposes of this fiction we are striking the events of **episode 12**: "**Expecting**" from the record – it **never happened**.

This is set right at the end of season one, picking up during the season finale and taking a completely new path.

The first 13 chapters are fairly short and move fast, after that they open up and are on average seven times longer per chapter. That's when it really gets rocking ;) LOL

I've created a **theatrical trailer for this fiction** using clips from Angel if you want to check it out :D Go to my profile on here for a link to my YouTube page.  
The video is entitled, "Doyle is 'The Returned', Angel, Season 2 Rewritten"

So are you ready for this?  
Good. ;) Let's do this thing.

* * *

**INTRO**

**From Season 1, Episode 22: "To Shanshu in L.A."**

The Ritual of Raising cast over the box and five vampires chained to it – including Latin translation:

"_Five are without breath  
yet they live  
Five are without time  
yet they live  
Five are without soul  
yet they live  
Five are without sun  
yet they live  
Five are dead  
yet they live"_

Spoken by Lindsey in Latin:

"_And the five shall be a sacrifice  
And the one who is dead shall live  
Even as life and death are not two things but one  
In darkness is the light, in light is the darkness  
Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise! Arise!"_

The five vampires are turned to dust and bones as the earth shakes and a whirlwind begins to spin around the box. The whirlwind sucks the vampire dust and bones into the box and a ring of light explodes outward.

And the Raising is complete…

* * *

**CHAPTER 1**

_Candle light flickered across water-slick stone walls, the only source of warmth in this God forsaken place. She could smell incense; hear water dripping, chanting…_

_And someone screaming in absolute, unbridled agony. _

_There was something about the voice behind those shrieks of anguish that pulled at her, squeezed her heart inside her chest and nearly maddened her with the need to help them. _

_She could see blood running across pale skin, skin that was gradually being inked with strange symbols._

_Her visions always brought emotions with them – she was used to panic and fear but this was something different. _

_There was a resolve here, a terror for the safety of someone not present…_

_His voice thundered through her as a wall suddenly blocked out the scene, the plea he was sending to her with every ounce of his soul resounding in her mind. _

"_No…ya can't be here…  
Stay away…__**please**__…  
ya have ta stay __**away**__ from me!"_

* * *

Cordelia cried out and sat up on the couch, looking around her living room with wild eyes. Her hair stuck to her sweat-soaked brow and in an instant Angel was there, wiping it away and staring at her worriedly as she clutched at his arms and gasped for air.

"Hey, _hey_ – you're alright, it was a nightmare. You're safe." He said in a soothing tone but she continued looking around them frantically. "Cordelia! _Look at me_. You just fell asleep for a while…you had a dream…" She wasn't calming down though, after a moment of listening to her pounding heart– smelling her fear his brows drew in confusion. "It wasn't a vision, was it?" True he'd only been staying in her place for the past week but he couldn't remember her ever mentioning a vision hitting while she was asleep prior to that.

"I…I don't know…" She said softly, focusing on Wesley as he approached with a worried expression on his face. "It felt so real."

"What did you see?" Wesley asked. He and Angel exchanged concerned looks. She'd had a great deal of nightmares since she'd been released from the hospital; it was to be expected after having her mind opened up to all of the pain of the world but there was something in the haunted look in her eyes in that moment which gave him and Angel pause.

Like always now when she awoke from a 'vision-fit' she closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, replaying the images in her mind and speaking in a trembling voice. "Umm…it's a room, or a basement, I'm not really sure which. The walls are like this _really_ old stone and there's water leaking in from above. No windows. There isn't any light other than candles…"

She took a deep breath as the voice replayed in her mind again, '_stay __**away**_ _from me_' he'd warned but she forced herself to continue.

"There are people in hoods, chanting, a stone table or something in the middle of them, it's an altar…" A cry escaped her as she recalled more details, a renewed sense of panic filling her. "A knife – they have a knife, and there's blood – there's so much _blood_. They have him chained down to the altar, I can see the shackles cutting into his wrists – he's been fighting to get away, trying so hard but he can't…they're marking his skin with these symbols, and he's screaming….God, Angel – he's _screaming!_"

Angel's eyes narrowed on her as she clutched at him with one hand, covering her mouth with the other and crying hysterically. She didn't usually get so involved in the emotion of her visions; something made this one personal for her. "You said '_**he's **_screaming', what does the guy look like?"

Cordelia shook her head feverishly, her eyes widening in horror. "I can't see his face but…but…I can hear his voice…he told me…he _begged_ me to stay away from him."

She wasn't telling him something here and Angel studied her eyes deeply. "Cordy, who is _he?_"

* * *

At the other end of the city Lilah, Holland and Lindsey entered the vault holding the box from the ritual Angel had so rudely interrupted. It hadn't made a difference, even though Angel had managed to gain the scroll of Aberjian and cut off Lindsey's hand to do so they'd still succeeded in the Ritual of Raising.

"The senior partners were very impressed with your sacrifice." Holland said with a smile. Lindsey could only manage a look that bordered on stifled rage as he stood with his arm in a sling. "Trust me; we'll even the score with him." He added.

"Yes, we _will_." Lindsey said determinedly.

"Beginning with what's in that box." Holland said, his smile widening as he watched Lilah approaching it.

"We are all very pleased you're here." Lilah said softly as she bent to peer through the bars at the top of the crate. "I know it's a bit confusing – but it's going to be better soon, a lot better…" She smiled at the shivering, naked form of the dark haired man huddled within the box, watched his horrified blue eyes darting around in uncertainty before calling him by his name, "_Doyle_."

* * *

"And it's not even possible, right?" Cordelia continued to ramble. "I know it's crazy but…but _God_, I know his voice, Angel. I could _feel_ him. It doesn't make any sense, though. I mean he's…_gone_…" She still had difficulty using the word '_dead'_ when speaking of Doyle, it brought on too much pain. "So how could anyone hurt him? He's in heaven or wherever the good guys go, right? Right? _Angel?_"

He was leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, staring off into space intensely and unable to form a response. Cordelia was pleading for him to tell her that what she'd seen wasn't real but he didn't know if that was the truth or not. He didn't even have the Oracles to consult on the matter anymore thanks to the bastard demon that killed them to sever his connections to the Powers That Be. It was the same reason he'd opened Cordelia's mind to a never-ending vision.

"Well, there is one…possible translation…of this word here…" Wesley said distractedly, looking back and forth between three books and the scroll. He'd been at this for days now, trying to translate the prophecy that pertained to Angel and establish what had been raised. "I originally thought the translation would make no sense but in light of this new spot of information I think it may be…" His body went rigid as he looked up at Angel and pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. "Oh dear…"

"What is it?" Angel asked, now in full-on brood mode.

Wesley sighed. "I can't find the word to translate it directly but if it is broken into parts it would roughly mean something like '_view speaker'_; I dismissed it thinking it made no sense…however, in this case…"

"But _I'm_ a 'view speaker'." Cordelia said quickly. "I mean I _view_ the visions, I _tell_ you the visions – and…" Cordelia could only whisper now, her chest constricting painfully at the thought. "_Doyle_…"

"What would Wolfram & Hart want with him?" Wesley thought aloud.

Angel shook his head. "I don't know…but you can bet they wouldn't bring him back for a happy reunion with us."

"Why…" Cordelia's trembling voice cut in on the conversation. "Why would he tell me to _stay away_ from him?"

Angel's lips formed a tight line; his eyes were practically black with the rage that was boiling up inside of him considering the answers to that question.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"See? Never show up on time to a ritual." Holland said with a smile as they entered the room. The monks were beginning the final stages; their guest had apparently lost consciousness already from the pain and loss of blood.

Lindsey glared at the bleeding man on the altar covered in the tattooed markings of the spell; the urge for revenge against Angel had him wishing he could just send pieces of this resurrected friend by mail for the next few months. His jaw flexed impatiently as he translated the chanted words in his mind, thankful that they hadn't needed the scroll for these rites. He caught Lilah giving him an amused smirk and scowled back at her, she hadn't once missed an opportunity to point out that the only reason they had this particular spell was because _she'd_ copied it over in preparation for the ritual. Everything else had been lost to Angel except the part that _she'd_ been in charge of, as if him losing a hand hadn't shown the extent of his attempts to keep that damned scroll.

"_And the one that lives again shalt be opened to the darkness  
And the vessel shalt be offered  
The darkness shalt claim the flesh as its own"_

Doyle's eyes flew open and he began fighting against his restraints frantically despite his injuries, he could feel the evil coiling its way inside of him and cried out. Lindsey smirked as an exceedingly crude stream of accented curses erupted from the man toward his captors, his amusement fading when blood was spat in his direction defiantly.

"_Seize! Seize! Seize!" _

The darkness, evidently, was more than happy to oblige; as Doyle fought and cried out in pain blackness seeped from the markings in his flesh, momentarily covering his entire body, blotting out every inch of his skin before being sucked inward.

The shriek that erupted from Doyle as his body was overtaken was enough to set even Lindsey's hairs on end.

* * *

"Where are you going?" Wesley asked, following Angel to the door as he tried to make a quick exit.

"To get some answers." He said shortly.

Wesley blocked his path, arching a brow at him and crossing his arms over his chest, hoping he appeared as stubborn as Cordelia would have in his stead (were she not currently slipping into shock at the other end of the room).

"Where will you do that, precisely? The _answer_ store? Angel, you can't just waltz into Wolfram & Hart's lobby and say 'good evening, I know you all mean to kill me but I was wondering if you've resurrected any friends of mine recently'." Wesley said and Angel sighed impatiently.

"I hadn't planned on being quite that obvious – though if I don't find what I'm looking for it will be my last stop. I'm going to go twist some arms and see if anybody out there has heard anything…now are _you_ going to _move_ or am I going to _move you?_" Angel asked, his expression making it clear that he wasn't going to be stopped. He waited for Wesley to grudgingly step to the side before casting a glance over his shoulder.

Cordelia was sitting on the couch, staring out the window with a devastated look on her face. _He hadn't seen her like this since Doyle…_

Angel swallowed hard, looking Wesley in the eye meaningfully and lowering his voice. "Take her to your place, I'll meet you there."

"Why do we need to…?" Wesley began in confusion but it slowly dawned on him. "Oh…oh yes, of course…" He said, realizing that Doyle knew where Cordelia lived. "So we're expecting…" He trailed off and watched Angel's expression become even more severe. "Right then, we'll leave straight away." He said as he nodded.

Angel turned and exited the apartment, leaving Wesley with the challenge of getting Cordelia to leave without answering too many questions as to why it was necessary.

* * *

****

**To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

"Doyle…how are you feeling?" Lilah asked, standing over him and watching his wounds as they finished closing. The spell had given him accelerated healing abilities just as they'd planned – good thing, too – he never would have survived the ritual without them.

"Alive." He said with a smile. Despite the friendly tone in his voice the vicious look in his eyes was unsettling and caused her to rethink how closely she was standing.

She cleared her throat and stood upright, her muscles tensing as she struggled to maintain her outward appearance of composure. "Do you remember this woman?" She asked, holding up a picture and watching his eyes take in the image. Once sparkling and warm they were now a cold ice blue, his face was still the same but it was in his gaze, the madness boiling just beneath the surface.

"_Cordelia_…" Doyle breathed in such a disturbing way that Lilah's hand trembled as she held out the picture, whatever he was thinking in that moment was flashing in those terrifying eyes and she almost pitied the girl. _Almost_. "I'd never forget." He finally whispered with his chilling smile widening. "So you planning to let me go sometime soon? It's a bit rude to keep a man chained when you're about to ask him to work for you."

"Yes, of course." Lilah said, backing up a step as an assistant moved forward to unshackle him.

He sat up slowly on the table, rubbing his wrists and looking around the room. "You…" He said, pointing at Lindsey and grinning dangerously. "Keep glaring at me like tha and you're liable to hurt my feelings. I'm a sensitive one; tend to get emotional when I'm not made to feel welcome." Doyle said, tilting his head to the side, enjoying the hatred in the stranger's eyes for a second.

Without warning he snatched the assistant that had unchained him by the back of the hair and slit his throat with the sacrificial knife.

Lilah and Holland barely batted an eyelash as he held the man in place, resting his chin on his shoulder to watch him bleed out as the man choked and gurgled on his own blood. She realized that the smile still present on his face and the glimmer in his eyes as he did it were more frightening than any of their previous clients combined; the worst cruelty came from the greatest kindness it would seem.

Doyle hissed and let the body fall to the floor, giving an excited shudder and satisfied smile before he pointed the dripping blade at Lindsey. "Really no excuse for bad manners, is there? Now, say you're sorry."

Lindsey's nostrils flared in outrage, his eyes went around the room for support but he found none.

"Lindsey, our new associate asked you for an apology." Holland said with a smile.

Swallowing back his hatred he somehow managed to grind out through clenched teeth, "I'm sorry, Doyle. I guess I'm still a little off since…" He held up his stump.

Doyle's eyes flashed with sadistic interest. "Who did _tha?_ Not our boy of the brood and brow…" He breathed, watching the way Lindsey's eye twitched and laughing in astonishment. "_Ooh_ it _was_ him…and you're all types of sore about it, yeah?" Doyle asked in amusement as he slid off the table. "Well chin up, I cut any pieces off him I'll be sure to send'em your way." He clapped Lindsey on the shoulder, smirking as he watched him flinch, knowing the jolt had been enough to shake his arm and cause pain in the fresh wound.

Lilah always enjoyed watching Lindsey squirm but had to cut in. "While we won't be opposed to you harming Angel if possible, Miss Chase is our primary concern. She is Angel's link to the Powers and we need to sever such ties."

"Sounds like fun." Doyle said as he played with the knife, turning to Lilah and speaking behind his blood-soaked hand in a low tone as if sharing a secret. "Ya know she and I have a bit of unfinished business needs resolving anyway."

Holland nodded. "A point that has not been lost on us and one which we need to discuss, Mr. Doyle. I believe we have something in mind that will serve both our purposes agreeably. Come, let's get you some clothes and go over the details."

"Clothes _and_ a bottle of whiskey and you've got yourself a deal." Doyle said stubbornly, running the blade across his own forearm and watching in twisted fascination as the flesh lay open before slowly resealing. _Now that would come in handy_…he mused to himself.

"We have a selection of your favorites already waiting for you in the meeting room – we've been expecting you for quite a while." Holland replied as he started for the door.

"Well why didn't you say so?" Doyle asked with a grin, tossing the bloody knife over his shoulder and stepping over the dead assistant as he followed.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Cordelia stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom, studying her reflection as memories replayed in her mind. His smile, his laugh, his eyes…that worn out black leather jacket she'd never admitted she loved seeing him in. The one she'd searched his apartment for in vain after Harri was finished packing and taking away his possessions. She wished she'd been strong enough to face the woman like Angel had been; maybe then she could have asked for something to remember him by…

But bare walls and silence were her only greeting when she finally worked up the courage to go. Just like everywhere else in the world nothing had remained of him for her there. Not a scrap of Doyle left behind for her to hold, no trace of her best friend who was meant to be ever so much more. She'd lain on the floor in his room within the indent of where his bed had been, crying until she couldn't breathe. The emptiness he'd left behind was her only companion as she'd fallen asleep. Angel found her there several hours later, carrying her out because she'd been too broken to stand on her own, taking her back to the office so that she wouldn't be alone. They never spoke about that first week or the number of times they'd watched that tape together in anguished silence; it had been the darkest point of her entire life.

And now it was _hurting_ again.

She closed her eyes for a second and recognized the grieving that was starting all over. It wasn't like the steady throbbing that she'd carried as she struggled to keep going with her life…it was back to cutting every bit as deeply as it had the night he'd died; settling over her and stealing her breath.

The woman in the mirror before her was starting to look different from the one Doyle had loved, aging under the weight of her grief. Sometimes it felt like years since she'd seen him but she knew better, the number she wrote in the top corner of each entry in her journal told her otherwise. It had been 175 nights since she'd lost him…she kept track of it as a promise to herself that she'd never forget. Every time she wrote the number she would tell him she missed him in her mind.

She gripped the sink and bit her lip, her eyes welling up as she turned away from her reflection, not wanting to look herself in the eyes for what she'd done. _She'd been so cruel to him and she could never take it back_…

She could never tell him how much she wanted a chance to do it all over again and make it right, make it better…to _be_ better for him. How much she wanted to be with him, how badly she wanted more than that one kiss. She'd missed her chance to tell him she had already fallen in love with him; there'd be no '_learning_ to love' necessary. Now it was too late to do anything but ache for him, for his voice and his patience, for the adoration those blue eyes had always held for her.

_Doyle…I miss you…so much…I love you…I don't want to do this without you…_she sobbed to him in her mind.

But this time, unlike the thousands of times before, her plea was _answered_.

She tightened her hold on the sink and gasped in shock, her eyes closing as something similar to a vision gripped her senses.

_Princess…_his echoed whisper called to her, and suddenly there he was – standing with her on the platform of the Quintessa awash in light – staring down into her eyes lovingly as he softly kissed her lips.

She sobbed and squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as they could get, not wanting whatever this was to end.

_I've missed you so much…but no more tears…it's all gonna be better soon…_he soothed, pressing his forehead against hers and smiling at her, running the backs of his knuckles over her cheek tenderly. _We'll be together soon…I can't wait to hold you, love…promise me you'll not let anything stand between us again…_

Cordelia struggled to breathe, her fingers holding nothing but the cool ceramic of the sink but in her mind he was there, she was reaching up and touching his face as she nodded that she wouldn't let anything stop her, feeling his warm breath on her skin, his soft lips under her fingertips as she traced them. It was Doyle…_her Doyle_…he was even wearing that weather-beaten jacket from her memories.

A knock came at the door and she ignored it. "Cordelia…are you alright in there?" Wesley asked.

Doyle gazed into her eyes deeply and pressed a finger to his lips. _Shh…our secret, love…_he whispered and waited for her to nod in agreement, kissing her one last time before releasing her.

And as quickly as the pleasant vision of Doyle had come it was gone, leaving her to look around the room desperately searching for any sign of him.

"Cordelia?" Wesley called again worriedly.

"I'm fine!" She answered distractedly, touching her lips and staring into the mirror in a daze, recalling the feeling of Doyle's kiss. "_I'm gonna be fine_…" She whispered.

Minutes ticked away as she stalled and Wesley grew steadily more restless.

He looked down at his watch as he paced, she'd been getting ready and packing an 'overnight bag' for nearly an hour already. "Cordelia we really must be _leaving_ now, Angel might return with information and we need to be there when he arrives." He pleaded.

For some reason she'd changed her outfit five times. She was going through every article of clothing she owned, doing her hair in every style she could think of and changing her makeup repeatedly. As the time wore on he realized the reasons for her erratic behavior…_she was preparing in case she was going to see Doyle again_. He sympathized with her greatly for her grief, didn't have the heart to point out that if she did see Doyle it would be a decidedly bad thing.

Finally he managed to convince her that she looked divine and hurried her out the door, only to have her start an argument when they got outside and she realized they'd be riding his motorcycle. She couldn't decide what would mess her hair up worse, the wind or wearing a helmet.

They were far too involved in their bickering to notice the man standing at the end of the building, leaning against the wall and watching them from the shadows.

After a great deal of persuasion she climbed onto the back of the bike and something in the body he'd been given tensed, his gut twisting and Doyle's lip curled in a cruel smile as he used memories to define this reaction as jealousy. He whispered to the former inhabitant of this flesh with a great deal of amusement, "Don't worry, he's not gonna live to touch her again. Not that I particularly care, mind you…just cuz it'll be fun."

He walked casually in the opposite direction as they pulled away, ducking through dark alleys and listening to the sound of the motorcycle circling the block toward the highway entrance. Whistling to himself he grabbed a pipe from a dumpster without breaking his stride.

Wesley stopped at the red light, barely getting his feet on the ground to steady the bike before that pipe was brought down across his chest with rib-cracking force. He hadn't even seen the assailant coming before his vision went white with pain, he still hadn't had time to heal from the explosion at the office and wasn't ready for a fight. He fell to the side, taking himself, Cordelia and the bike with him.

"Wesley! Wesley!" Cordelia shrieked, prying the helmet off of her head as she tried to free her leg from the bike that was pinning it, not getting a clear enough look at the attacker to judge whether she was laying there like vamp bait.

"Hey, princess…did ya miss me?" The voice she would have known anywhere asked from behind her and she froze, that Irish accent tearing her heart into a million pieces.

She turned slowly, staring in shock at the familiar face that was smiling back at her. Doyle was crouching behind her, head cocked to the side as he studied her with those beautiful blue eyes, his tongue at the corner of his mouth, the pipe still clutched in his hand.

A sob escaped her and despite the warning bells that should have been going off in her mind, despite the fact that he'd just hurt Wesley she was struggling to reach him. "Doyle…oh God, _Doyle_…" She cried, her cheeks instantly covered in tears as she stretched her hand toward him.

"Who's this then? Latest flavor of the week?" He asked in disgust, pointing to Wesley with the pipe as he moaned and clutched his broken sternum, unable to move or even breathe without agony.

Cordelia could only sob and hold her hand out pleadingly. He was crouched just out of reach, watching her desperately trying to get to him. "_No!_ He works for Angel…Doyle, _please_…" She whimpered through her tears. _He was dead, she'd watched him die, how could he be here? _She needed to touch him, to know he was real. Just looking at him made her feel like she was losing her mind.

With a smirk he moved closer, lifting the bike and hauling her out from beneath it before dropping it on Wesley again. His eyes widened and he smiled as she threw herself into his arms, kissing him deeply and sobbing against his lips. He let out a low moan as he ran his hands up through her hair, inhaling her scent choppily, hungrily returning her kiss and pulling her body flush with his. _Oh this was going to be easy, not to mention enjoyable as all hell_.

When she finally pulled away for air she stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. "_Doyle_…I love you so much and I didn't get to tell you…I missed you…I _never_ stopped praying for you to come back…" She sobbed and he shushed her as he drew her to his chest, letting her tuck her face under his chin as he held her tightly.

"It's alright now, princess. I'm here and everything's gonna be alright." He whispered soothingly, kissing her forehead and smiling to himself as he rocked her. "Come on; we need to get out of the middle of the street. I know a place we can lay low for a while – maybe do a little reminiscing." He reached down and picked up the bike, climbing onto it and smiling as he saw her pause – her eyes going to Wesley. "He'll be fine; I didn't hit him that hard. Besides, he can just go back to your place, yeah?" She wrung her hands nervously and Doyle sighed, he needed to keep her confused. "Not to rush you, darling but there are people following me…lawyer types and they're none too happy about me taking off before they could finish _filleting_ me."

Cordelia's eyes were on him in an instant, recalling the pain of his torture from her vision. Without another thought she rushed over to him and climbed on the bike, holding onto him for dear life as he sped away.

* * *

**To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

The world tilted in Wesley's perception as he struggled to reach Cordelia's apartment; every step was a new agony, every breath was more difficult to draw than the last. Mercifully Dennis opened the door for him as he all but collapsed against it, the phone floated to him as he lay on the floor and managed to choke out a thank you. It took him a moment to catch his breath and he told himself to bring a gift for Dennis if he survived as he watched the buttons slowly light up to form Angel's number.

Angel answered on the second ring, too concerned to bother with anything but the obvious question. "Cordelia? What are you still doing at your apartment?" He demanded.

"No…Doyle took…" Wesley wheezed.

"_Wesley_ – what happened? Where did Doyle take her?" Angel asked in panic.

"Don't…know…" He answered slowly.

"I'm coming, just hang on." Angel said, cursing as he jumped back into his car and peeled out.

* * *

They reached the docks and Cordelia couldn't think of anything but the feeling of his body in her arms, her hands on his warm, _living_ chest and stomach through his shirt as she held on tight, the smell of the leather of his jacket. All of it was real, _he_ was real – not a wish or a memory or dream. He climbed off the bike and held a hand out to her which she took eagerly, following him into the darkened interior of a warehouse without question. Nothing mattered but staying close to him, she was afraid that if she let him go he'd disappear.

When he reached the center of the building he stopped and turned to face her, catching her in his arms as she almost ran into him. She could make out his smile in the moonlight filtering in through the skylights, those dimples she'd only seen in a video tape for so many months, that she thought she'd never see again.

"Alone at last…" He said softly and Cordelia leaned into his palm as he caressed her cheek. "So you really missed me then, princess?" He asked and she nodded, her eyes filling with tears as he leaned down and kissed her softly. "Show me how much." He whispered against her lips, pulling her closer to him and drinking in the desperate need of her kiss.

It was so easy, wearing the face of this lost love – Cordelia was frantic to prove how deeply she'd grieved for him. He watched her closing her eyes as she kissed him, leaving his open to enjoy the look of need on her face. With a smile as his tongue commandingly explored the heat of her mouth he decided to save the games for later, this was proving to be too much fun to interrupt; letting her believe that she was with the man she loved so much. He would let her have her way before he had his, didn't make a difference – either of the two paths could accomplish his goal.

They sank to the floor and he moaned at the way she was hurriedly pulling his shirt open, pushing it and his coat off over his shoulders as she panted and kissed his throat. _So __**hungry**__ for him_… his eyes rolled closed as his body begged for her. Better to savor this before he hurt her; there was no going back once the surprise was revealed, after all. His hands wandered up under the silken material of her shirt, relishing the warmth of the flesh of her bare back before pulling the fabric off over her head. He dipped down and pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his muscles trembling at the soft, breathy moans it earned him. The fact that this body had starved for her for so long was adding to his pleasure immeasurably, her touch was quenching a ravenous thirst that had settled into this form long before its death.

She pulled his undershirt off over his head and he smiled watching her eyes take in the strange tattooed symbols, her fingertips tracing over them for a second before he spoke. "Not really my style but they didn't exactly consult me on the design beforehand…" He teased.

In a quick motion he pulled her against him, feeling her warm breasts pressing into his skin and hissing at the sensation. It was enough to derail her concerns. He rolled her onto her back on the cold concrete; his arms wrapped around her and her mind gave up any attempt at a lucid thought.

"Do you want me, love?" He whispered into her ear and smiled as her body quaked in response to his low tone, her thighs quivering against either side of his hips as he reached down and hiked her skirt up.

"More than anything." Cordelia whimpered as she ran her hands through his hair, his beautiful black hair that she'd thought was gone forever. Tears were streaming over her temples as she looked up into his eyes. Somewhere in the back of her mind there was a faint voice screaming, begging, _pleading_ for her to get away now but she ignored it – ignored _HIM_ – nothing mattered but having Doyle there with her. The accented voice inside her head could only be some sort of hallucination stemming from the vision of the torture he'd endured; Doyle was right here, how could his voice be contradicting his actions in her thoughts?

She listened to the sounds of his belt unfastening, heard the buckle clatter on the concrete as he tossed it aside. Her heart was in her throat as she watched him bite his bottom lip and felt him tear away her panties. He paused as if considering something and then rolled over onto his back abruptly, pulling her along with him and leaving her atop and straddling him. Her fingers dug into his chest, her eyes rolling closed and mouth hanging open at the sensation of him pressing against her.

"Then _have_ me…" He said, reaching up and running his hands over her bare breasts. He watched her take a trembling hand from his chest and reach down between them, sucking in air between his clenched teeth when her fingers encircled his starved flesh and pressed it to the soaked heat at her core. With a low moan he brought his hands to her hips, fighting to keep up the role of a caring lover as she slowly let him sink inside of her.

The sharp cry that left her, the way her body tensed as he broke through an unexpected barrier made his eyes widen in surprise, a smile coming to his lips at his luck. "Your _first_…" He breathed in awe, watching her face twisting between pain and pleasure. It couldn't get any better than this. "Come here, princess." He said softly, pulling her down to his chest and sighing as she nuzzled her face under his chin. With one arm wrapped around her shoulders possessively and his other hand on her hip he guided her in a slow rhythm – the soft cries and mews that were escaping her were like music to his ears. He let his eyes roll closed and savored the moment, the fact that she'd just willingly given him her innocence under false pretenses was not something to be taken lightly. The level of betrayal was intoxicating and he was in no hurry to end it. Let her enjoy it; let her feel this connection with the man she had lost. It would make the reveal all the more painful.

Her moaning was becoming fevered now, the name for this body falling from her lips like a chant as she came closer to her end. It wouldn't be long now. He took her face in his hands, staring up into her eyes as his body began to tense with each movement of her hips. His breathing was as frantic as hers, this heart hammering inside this chest, need boiling in these veins for her. The first cry of pleasure that escaped her as her body quaked in his grasp sent his thoughts scattering in all directions, pleasure the likes of which only mortal beings can experience exploded through him, seeping out into her, filling her up as they clung to one another.

_He enjoyed this one…he would keep her_…as the decision was made he quickly began compiling a list of who he would kill to ensure it. There were feelings lingering in this shell called Doyle for her, confusing feelings spurred on by the memories that remained. He tried to shake them off but they fought back for the right to exist, to be noticed. They were warped as they closed in around him though, no one else could have her; she _belonged_ to him – she had come away with him, given herself to him – no one would harm her _but_ him.

The planning could wait, though. No one knew where they were and she was curling up at his side, nuzzling her face into the crook of his arm as her fingers absently swirled through his chest hair. He looked very much forward to breaking her heart, seeing her cry, watching her beg – but this moment was to be cherished. It would make the pain sweeter when it came.

**

* * *

**

Author's Note:

_I realize some people may want to argue with me about the decision for Cordelia to have still been a virgin but after taking her character into careful consideration I decided she very possibly would have been (remember what I said about 'Expecting' having never happened). Keep in mind that this takes place roughly a year after graduation – she only would have been around 19 years old at this point, her only serious boyfriend having been Xander. __I figure with the way she carried herself she would have done everything up to intercourse but would have been saving the end game for someone truly worthy of bedding the 'Queen C'. That privilege was originally intended to be saved for the man she'd eventually marry – who would undoubtedly be an actor or millionaire. Life didn't work out according to plan, however and she would be at the point where the real world would be clearer in her perception. I feel the whole 'Expecting' fiasco could be traced back to her grief over Doyle's death and the jarring realization of mortality that she suffered as a result. In this scenario, as opposed to 'Expecting', I find that her decision to give up her virginity would have been due to the fact that she was finally getting another chance with Doyle, the man she loved and had already learned could be taken from her without warning. _

_If you still don't find this to be a reasonable assumption then please, by all means feel free to stop reading at this point  
because this is a fanfiction meant for enjoyment – not a cause for debate. Thank you._

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	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Angel entered the apartment and found Wesley sprawled out on the floor fading in and out of consciousness. "Come on, hang in there." He said in frustration as he quickly dialed 911 and requested an ambulance, hanging up and tossing the phone aside hurriedly. "Wesley, Wesley – can you hear me?" He pleaded, looking around the apartment for any signs of a struggle. "What happened?"

"Doyle…took bike…Cordelia…" Wesley finally wheezed.

Listening to the rasping as he tried to draw a breath Angel clenched his jaw, pulling open Wesley's shirt and finding almost the entire front of his chest black and blue. He tried to run his fingers over the bones experimentally to see how many were broken but it instantly earned a pained wail from the man and he winced. "Okay, okay…just lay still; the paramedics will be here soon." He bit his bottom lip worriedly, knowing that every moment he remained here was another that Wolfram & Hart's version of Doyle was left alone with Cordelia. "Did he say anything? Anything at all about where they might have been going?"

Wesley shook his head as much as he could and struggled to form words, "Just said…place…'lay low'…where…could reminisce…."

Angel pulled out his cell, dialing Gunn quickly. "Hey, it's Angel. Listen, I have a problem. Cordelia's been taken, she'll be down by the docks somewhere and I need as many eyes out there looking as possible. It's her and one man, they were riding a motorcycle…right…right…and listen, if any of your guys see anything have them _call me_ – tell them not to approach or try to get involved – I'm not sure exactly what it is we're dealing with here. Thanks, I owe you one."

Wesley's eyes were locked with his as he hung up, resolve behind them as he managed one word. "_**Go**_."

* * *

"Wake up, princess." He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers and smiling as her eyes slowly opened. She'd cried for nearly an hour about how deeply she'd missed him before drifting off to sleep in his arms. He'd spent that time enjoying her grief, learning the sound of it so he could truly appreciate the difference between it and the sounds to come. He urged her to sit up in front of him, smiling at her as his eyes flashed with cruelty. "We need to talk."

Cordelia nodded and tried to move closer to him, seeking out comfort but he held up a hand to stop her, passing her his shirt. "What's wrong?" She asked, her face twisting in confusion as she pulled it on and hugged it around herself.

"I wanted to clear some things up that have been confusing me. First off, I'm curious as to why you felt the need to be such a rotten bitch to me before. I mean, yeah, you're all for getting proper fucked by me now – but did I really need to die for all tha?" He asked, his eyes flashing with delight as two words in particular sliced through her.

Her mouth fell open as if he'd slapped her. "_What?_" She whispered in shock, her eyes widening in a mixture of anger, pain and concern.

"Don't get me wrong – I'm glad I got to be the one to pop your cherry, love – _really_. It just bothers me, is all. I remember hanging on your every word, doing anything I could think of to make you happy…and it turned out the only way to do that was to _die_. Way to keep yourself single, Cordy." He said with a bitter laugh. "You never once thought about what I wanted, even after I was gone – did you? All you could think of was how the whole thing affected _you_. It was all about poor little Cordelia, yeah? And how my _dying_ meant that _you_ would never get another chance."

Cordelia's eyes filled with tears, she could feel her standard sharp tongue preparing to cut him back down to size…feel a demand for just who the hell he thought he was to speak to her in such a way forming on her lips…

_But hadn't that been the reason why they'd never gotten together? Hadn't she always cut Doyle down? Hadn't she __**sworn**__ to herself over and over that if she had just one more chance with him she'd be more understanding? _

She couldn't get the rage to come, hearing him saying this was hurting her as much as it had to watch him die. "No…_no_ Doyle…that's _not_…" She whimpered, her voice breaking as she tried to slide closer to him again but his hands on her shoulders kept her at bay.

"I lived with that need, princess; day after day after _day_. I wanted nothing in the world but to touch you, only you weren't dead like I was when you felt that same longing – you just couldn't give a damn about anyone but yourself." Doyle said as he scanned the memories searching for what would inflict the deepest pain on her, his eyes burning into hers as his grip on her shoulders tightened painfully. "I fought right beside you, breathing you, _starving_ for you and you pretended I didn't even exist; nothing I said or did for you mattered. I just don't understand it – how did I ever fall for such a _selfish little girl?_" He released her with those last three words as if touching her disgusted him.

Cordelia's stomach felt like it had dropped out beneath her, like when you go airborne in a car and feel the world below you pulling away.

_Priceless_, it was the only word to describe the look on her face when she passed the moment of heartbreak, of wanting to explain herself and make him feel better, finally reaching that beautiful instant of complete and utter realization.

Her eyes met his with panic burning brightly in them. "You…you're _not_…" She whispered and shook her head slowly, pointing at him as she started to climb to her feet.

"What a sharp one you are." He said with a grin, blackness clouding his eyes completely and sending the scent of her terror to new heights.

With a gasp she turned and tried to bolt for the door – but he was suddenly there, blocking her path.

"_Woo_…somebody's in a _rush_." He laughed in honest amusement at her fear, grabbing her wrists as she tried to fight against him. "Oh come on, what's your hurry? Now that we've been properly introduced I thought we could do this the right way."

He shoved her backwards onto the ground, pinning her in place as her head reeled from its impact with the concrete. He bit down on her shoulder; the scream that she gave told him he'd successfully brought her out of her daze with the new pain.

"All that time and he didn't even _**once**_ think of just taking what he wanted; that's what amazes me. I can see it, the times when all he needed to get him through the day was a _smile_ from you. The dreams of kissing you, touching you – the torment of those things were worse for him than the visions. And inside this body? He has that demon blood, ya know…would have been _sooo_ easy to just take you for his own…I really don't understand it, myself." He said, laughing in astonishment. He gripped a handful of her hair and yanked it back roughly, smiling as she cried out and writhed beneath him. "He had this pitiable hope that you'd give him a chance, that one day you'd wake up and get over yourself and notice him instead of your own reflection for a change. Ya know he'd been willing to just accept it if one day you walked away from him completely? Can ya _believe_ tha? This was a guy who _died_ for you and he would have just let you leave him if that was your wish. Oh, he loved you something fierce, darling. I can still feel it inside, _clinging_ to this body, that pathetic admiration he had for you _crawling around_ under this skin."

And he really did, too – it was something he was narrowly avoiding inside of Doyle's mind and body, seemed like everywhere he looked it was waiting to jump out at him, to confuse him, to deter him.

With a growl of frustration he forced his attention back to the task at hand. "But you know what the problem is with you? Why he never got you?" He asked, staring down into her terrified eyes and dropping his voice to a whisper as he traced her mouth with a fingertip. "He didn't realize your type needs to be _taken_, not _given_…but I do…and I intend to be doing the taking, princess."

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	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Angel drove aimlessly through the maze of parking lots and warehouses of the docks where the Quintessa had been on the night of Doyle's death, desperately searching for any sign of them. His mind was twisting in the confusion of suddenly fearing Doyle _harming_ Cordelia, it sickened him, turned his stomach with the absolute wrongness of it. He tried not to recall what he'd done to Buffy when he'd lost his soul, desperately avoided the realization of what a Doyle turned evil would do to the woman he'd worshipped and adored so deeply.

What disturbed him most was that he could identify with it enough to know what was going to (_if it hadn't already_) happen. Angel had been with Buffy completely before he'd turned, so as Angelus he'd been focused on harming her emotionally…but Doyle and Cordelia had never been given the chance at anything but a kiss. If whatever had possessed Doyle's body had access to his memories there would only be one thing on his mind.

His cell phone rang and he picked it up instantly. "Hello…yeah…I'm a block away. Don't move until I get there."

* * *

Cordelia was sobbing as he urged her up a flight of metal steps; her legs were still trembling uncontrollably from what had been done to her and it made it difficult to stay upright. She was already repressing the memories, though; had kept her eyes closed throughout most of it – not wanting to associate Doyle's face with the act if she ever recalled it in her nightmares. When he'd forced her to look at him she'd shut out the pain, pretended it was consensual, focused on the pleasure in his features and willed herself to ignore how he was getting it. It wasn't right, having this monster wearing the mask of someone she loved so deeply. How could anything get so much satisfaction from inflicting so much pain?

"Alright, princess – here we are." He said, turning her to face the warehouse below and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Looks a bit familiar, yeah?"

Her eyes widened and body went rigid as she realized for the first time how much the interior of this building resembled the freight hull of the Quintessa.

This twisted version of Doyle grinned and nodded. "_Now_ you're seeing it." He said excitedly, turning her in his arms and kissing her roughly. She was shaking fearfully and he looked down at her, enjoying the terror and hatred in her eyes.

_But…somehow_…

He pushed the thoughts aside. Maybe he could understand how this body and its previous tenant had managed to fall for her even in her cruelest moments, despite looking like she was wishing death on him the fire in her gaze made his breath catch in his throat. She did not break easily; her posture was still regal even after all she'd been through, her head held high despite her tears. The defiance he could see in her regardless of the fact that she was standing there, nude aside from his shirt and completely at his mercy was alluring to him. This body was destined to react to her, he decided. With enough time and energy devoted to the task of twisting her, warping her perception he could turn this princess into a fearsome Queen, one that even Wolfram & Hart would quake in the presence of. She would love him deeply, just as she had Doyle – he'd find a way. He smiled imagining his black-hearted love walking through those doors at his side and leaving a path of murder and suffering in her wake. She would make death an art; it would be _beautiful _in her hands.

"Ya know…" He said in a lustful tone, his eyes wandering over her face in perverse adoration as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you want to have another go we can always postpone the reminiscing, love…" He said, licking his lips and smiling as she instinctively turned her face away from him, closing her eyes the instant his hand wandered across her chest. He loved the way she did that, refused to see the evil in him. It was so utterly child-like in its simplicity, if she couldn't see it then it wasn't there, it was a way for her to avoid facing the reality of what her love had become.

"Suit yourself; I'd say we've sufficiently taken care of the deposits…" He said with a wicked smile. "Now let's get to the withdrawals." With one last bruising kiss he pushed off the railing and paced the catwalk. "Whose line is it, then? Ah…that's right…they'd just about all be mine, yeah? You didn't say much in the way of asking him not to die, did you?" He taunted. "Let's see, how did it start?" After a few seconds of replaying the memories in the overtaken mind he snapped his fingers. "I got it…"

He walked over to the railing, squinting as if staring at a blinding light. His entire demeanor changed before her eyes and she couldn't prevent the sob that escaped her as his features softened and posture relaxed. Even the sound of his voice shifted back to that of her memories. This was the Doyle she knew, at least in body.

"What does that thing do?" Doyle asked, pausing as she heard Angel's response in her mind. '_Its light kills anything with human blood_', he'd said. "Well, it's getting brighter and that little doohickey's…" He trailed off, turning back to where Angel would have stood. "It's fully armed, isn't it?" He asked, his face twisting in realization.

Cordelia sobbed and clamped a trembling hand over her mouth as she watched him acting this out; it was like being trapped in some psychotic nightmare.

Angel had said, '_Almost. If I pull the cable I think I can still shut it off._'

Right on cue Doyle picked up, "How're you gonna do that without touching the light?"

Cordy closed her eyes and whispered her line, somehow unable to control herself. "_Angel, that's suicide_." Her hand gripped the railing as she struggled to keep her sanity. Why was he _doing_ this?

Doyle shook his head determinedly. "There's got to be another way."

_And Angel had said, 'It's alright.'_

"No!" Cordelia sobbed.

She watched Doyle putting his hand out, leaving it there as he had laid it on Angel's arm that night. His face took on that look of serenity, that total acceptance of his fate. "The good fight, yeah? You never know until you've been tested…I get that now." His words shattered her grip on reality; she watched as he drew back and threw the punch that had sent Angel spiraling through the air to the cargo hold below and could almost _hear_ the startled gasps of the Lister demons that had been present.

Cordelia's heart sank as if it had been tossed over the edge as well. She knew what came now, she could feel her stomach tensing and turning as it had that night, the paralyzing terror that had risen in her knowing that he was going to die and there was _nothing_ she could do to stop it. Fear boiled up inside of her, panic that she was going to lose him all over again, that somehow by acting this out he was going to tempt fate and disappear forever.

Just as before he turned back to face her, those crystal blue eyes locked on hers with such honest love as he approached, telling her everything he'd never said with just one look.

She didn't hesitate when he reached her, was too involved in her memories to care what this monster had done to her. The feeling of his mouth on hers broke her will; she kissed him desperately, pleadingly, silently begging him to stay with her, not to leave her alone again. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him tightly, time slipping away as they relived the emotion of the moment, dragging it out far beyond what they'd been allowed the first time.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

The sound of boots on the catwalk caused Doyle to stop, a smile coming to his lips as he inhaled and caught a familiar scent. Holding Cordelia to his chest as she sobbed he turned to face their unexpected guest.

"Angel, man! Long time no see." He said with a grin. "You're a bit late for your part, though. D'ya think ya could come back in a few minutes? We're kinda in the middle of something here."

Angel struggled with the pain that was constricting his chest as he approached cautiously. He hadn't realized how difficult it would be to stare into the eyes of his friend and know it wasn't him. The longing to believe that this was really Doyle was nearly crippling, _so many things he'd never gotten a chance to say, so many regrets for not protecting him_.

He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "Doyle…what brings you back? Or should I say, '_who'_?"

"Ah, way to make a man feel unwelcome. Think you could muster just a _little_ happiness for my returning from the dead?" He asked in feigned offense, kissing Cordelia's forehead as she continued clinging to him. "Cordy here is glad to have me back. Aren't you, princess?" He asked her and she pressed her face further under his chin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders frantically and sobbing as if still caught in the night of his death. "Ooh…alright, love…" He said with a laugh. "You'll have to forgive her, she's a bit emotional at the moment but as I'm sure your sense of smell can attest she's more than thrilled about having me here in the flesh."

Angel gritted his teeth. He smelled sex, true enough…but also terror, blood, tears.

Doyle grinned and winked at him. "We got a bit carried away, long time apart and all tha."

"Carried away, huh? Would that have been 'we' or just _you_?" Angel asked, unsure of the power he could sense crackling in the air surrounding his lost friend.

"You're not really hearing me out here, are you?" Doyle asked in amusement. "Fair enough, explanations are in order. There's a one-handed lawyer with a real hate-on for you. I woke up and found that he'd volunteered me for some inventive new torture techniques they've cooked up down at Wolfram & Hart. I suppose I have you to thank for my participation that bit of vengeance?"

Angel glared at him, seeing what he was doing. He was testing for weakness, seeing where he'd be able to inflict guilt. "Hardly, I chopped off his hand _after_ he'd raised you – he didn't bring you back because of it. So that makes me wonder, what did they really want you for?"

"Hell if I know." Doyle said with a smile and tilted his head to the side. "Oh, _come on, man!_ Why the distrust? Can't we just be glad I'm here and make the best of it? Not supposed to look a gift horse in the mouth, yeah? Besides, I missed your miserable, brooding ass – was hoping you and I could talk about the great, glowing beyond they plucked me out of over a pint. What d'ya say?"

"What happened with Wesley? Just decided you wanted his bike?" Angel asked; almost twenty feet away he was still close enough to taste the power that was coming from Doyle in torrents.

Doyle's jaw flexed impatiently, Angel wasn't playing along. "Not my fault the bastard was touching Cordelia when I got there. I'm sure he'll understand – you just come back to life, find some other guy hanging around the girl you died before you got a chance with – makes things a bit confusing."

"And if it had been me?" Angel asked, his eyes wandering over Cordy looking for injuries, discretely trying to make out the markings on Doyle's chest past her. He watched Doyle's arm tighten around her possessively in response to his gaze.

"Can't say for sure, now can we?" Doyle said, his voice losing its familiar friendly tone.

"Cordelia, how are you holding up to all this excitement?" Angel asked, testing the boundaries.

She let out a soft whimper as Doyle's grip tightened more severely but didn't try to move from where she stood with her face hidden away against the side of his neck.

"She's holding up just fine. Thanks for the concern but she's exactly where she needs to be…with _me_." Doyle said, his eyes taking on a look of warning. "Now, if you don't mind we were just getting reacquainted so…"

"Doyle, why don't you let Cordelia go get her own clothes on so you and I can catch up? A lot's happened since you've been gone." Angel tried.

"Not gonna happen, bud – last time I let this little beauty go it was so I could die – I don't intend on a repeat performance." Doyle said before cocking his head to the side and smiling. "But that'd be what you're after, yeah? Cordelia, what d'ya think about that, love? Angel here's trying to get you out of the way so he can send me straight back to the afterlife…planning to signal one of those boys he's got down there with their crosshairs on me to pull the trigger as soon as you've taken a few steps…"

Angel's expression tensed at the revelation that somehow, some way, Doyle had been able to sense his intentions and the presence of Gunn's men at the far end of the building waiting to take their shot. He doubted bullets would do any good, had mainly brought them in to distract Doyle if possible and _certainly_ hadn't expected the information to be used against him with Cordy.

Cordelia spun and looked at Angel with terrified, betrayed eyes. "What? _No!_ You can't hurt him, Angel!" She sobbed and pressed her back against Doyle protectively. "How could you? It's Doyle! He came back, don't you see? He came _back!_"

Angel glared at the satisfied grin Doyle flashed him from behind Cordelia as he wrapped an arm around her and kissed the side of her head. He leaned down and whispered in her ear with his eyes still locked on Angel challengingly, "_I don't want to lose you again, love_…" His words earned a flash of anger and determination in Cordelia's features as she stared Angel down.

"You think he's back? What did he _do to you_ before I got here? Huh? Is that the Doyle you remember?" Angel asked angrily, beyond nauseous that he was calling her out on this…and worse, that she was so desperate for Doyle's return that she was willing to overlook it. Love and grief did terrible things to people; they were rendering the usually strong-willed Cordelia defenseless.

Her face fell for a fraction of a second and she turned to look up into Doyle's apologetic eyes, running her fingers over his cheek slowly, watching him leaning into her touch. She was ignoring Angel's questions, distracting herself from the truth by focusing on him. Love was there in his eyes, dueling versions of it flashing behind the blue waters; one familiar, one dark and terrifying, both for her alone. "I can't let you hurt him, Angel; even if he came back wrong…he's still _Doyle_." She said softly.

She watched Doyle's sorrowful eyes wander over her face before he leaned down and kissed her lips sweetly. "I'm so sorry…" He whispered to her and she nodded, instantly forgiving him everything. Angel's arrival had interrupted them before she'd done her part…he needed her to be in the right frame of mind for it to work. He'd figured as much; it had been the reason for their little trip down memory lane. A new means of pushing her to that point had just presented itself and he'd only needed a moment to lay it out before reaching his decision. Poor Angel, he'd foolishly thought her grief wouldn't be strong enough to warp her perceptions. "You _know_ I don't want to hurt you…I love you, princess…I just can't _stop_ it…" He choked out with tears streaming down his cheeks; he knew this was what she wanted to hear.

Cordelia nodded and closed her eyes as her lips trembled and she pressed her forehead against his; he had to be in there somewhere, fighting the monster for control. She believed it – she _needed_ to believe it. "I know…I love you, too…we can fix it…we can make you right again…" She had just managed to whisper, looking up into his loving eyes hopefully.

Cutting in on the moment, without any action on the part of the man holding the gun at the far end of the warehouse, a bullet left its chamber. The shot rang out and Doyle spun to shield Cordelia from it protectively, putting his back in the line of fire as if the danger hadn't been his own doing.

Angel was screaming for Gunn's men to hold their fire, not understanding what would have caused them to take their shot with Cordy still standing there. He turned back to find Doyle on his knees with Cordelia clinging to him. She was shrieking, her eyes wide and horrified as she watched blood spilling from Doyle's chest and frantically tried to cover the wound with both hands. Her entire world was seeping red from him, her hopes and dreams and love passing through her fingers no matter how much pressure she put on it.

"I'll come back for you…I swear it…I'll come back…" Doyle whispered in agony against her lips, kissing her one last time before turning and racing from the building clutching his chest.

Cordelia sank back onto the catwalk and barely noticed the sound of Angel rushing to her. She didn't acknowledge his hands on her shoulders or his frantic questions of whether she was alright, her eyes were locked on the darkness in front of her long after Doyle had disappeared into it. Her hands and chest were covered in his blood, the only warmth of him that remained for her as she slipped over the edge.

* * *

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	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"So let me get this straight, Cordelia is still with Angel, you failed to sever his link to the Powers, got yourself shot and this somehow constitutes a success in your mind?" Lindsey asked skeptically.

Doyle hopped up onto the table, grabbing one of the many bottles that had been brought for him and taking a swig from it. "Ya know for a corporate type you're not too bright." He said with a smirk. "I got _exactly_ what I needed, enough time alone with Cordelia to plant the seeds of doubt in her…amongst other kinds…" He grinned to himself at that, pausing to reminisce for a moment before standing and continuing. "She's right back all twisted up like she was when her man died…the difference is this go around she's blaming _Angel_ for it. Give it some time and those two will tear each other apart, she'll come looking for me, will be ready to do anything for us to be together in a few weeks, trust me."

Lindsey's jaw dropped. "You're planning on waiting _weeks_? What for?" He asked in a livid tone.

"Oh for the love of _Christ_…have some _patience_, my mono-dextrous friend." Doyle said with an annoyed sigh as he casually walked up in front of Lindsey.

In the blink of an eye he had gripped him up by his throat and shoved him backward hard enough to slam his head off the wall, bringing his face so close that he could feel the lawyer's panicked breath on his skin. He let the blackness swirl in his eyes, allowing it to blot out the white and blue just as quickly as it could snuff out Lindsey's insignificant life.

"_I swear, the more you talk the more I want to just go ahead and cut off a piece of you myself_." He said in a dangerous tone.

It served its purpose, Lindsey cleared his throat and shifted nervously as if suddenly recalling what they'd put inside of this man and what it could do to him if provoked.

Doyle laughed and let his eyes change back to blue, slapping Lindsey's cheek lightly as the man tried to straighten his suit and regain his composure. He turned and walked away as if nothing had happened, his tone back to the humorous one that had come standard with this body. "Just try to _relax_, will ya? Every day I don't show up is another she spends wondering whether I died from that gunshot and the rift between her and Angel will only get wider. Besides, I'd personally like to wait until certain things to become…_apparent_ to her…before our reunion, if you catch my drift." Doyle said, walking over and flopping down on the couch of his suite, turning on the television and lounging despite the way Lindsey was still staring at him. "Ooh, fight night…I got fifty on Berman. You in?" He asked, leaning backward to look over the couch at the thoroughly shaken up attorney.

* * *

"Don't _touch_ me…you don't even get to _look_ at me." Cordelia ground out through clenched teeth, her eyes were wild and filled with rage.

Angel's hand fell from where he'd been offering to help her out of his car but hey, at least she was finally talking. She pushed past him and started for the stairs to her apartment. It took him a second to shake off the shock of her speaking to him with such a level of hatred; he slammed the car door and jogged to catch up with her. "Cordelia, would you wait? You heard the guy. He didn't pull that trigger; the gun went off by itself. For all we know Doyle made it fire so he could…" Angel began as he reached her but she spun to face him the instant her feet were on the first step, glaring down at him in furious disbelief.

"Right. _Right_, Angel. So now he _made_ the guy **you **told to keep a gun pointed at him _shoot_ him? Why? Did he have some evil master plan to _bleed all over me?_" She asked, holding back tears as she pointed to the front of the blood-soaked shirt she was wearing. "How can you even stand here talking to me after what you did? What if we'd ashed you the second you lost your soul, huh? _Huh?_" She shoved his shoulders angrily, backing him up several paces as she stepped down off the stairs and glared up at him. "Did you ever think about that? What if we'd just said, '_oh well, guess Angel's gone – let's stake his sorry ass and get on with our lives'?_ Should we have done that instead of trying to bring you back?"

Angel's jaw was flexing as he tried to find a point in her rant where he could actually speak. "Cordelia, I didn't…" He began but she cut him off.

"How could _you_ of all people just give up on him so easily? I thought you were his friend! I thought you were _my_ friend! You _know_ how much I love him, Angel! How many times did I cry to you about this? How many hours did I spend telling you that all I wanted was just _one more chance_ with him?" She stared up at him in disbelief for a moment before her anger faded to disgust. "But I guess you weren't listening…" She said, shaking her head and laughing bitterly as tears filled her eyes. "So no researching to find a cure for Doyle, huh? No shiny orb or chanting to make him right again? Because it's not like we do all that and _more_ for our freeloading clients every damned day or anything. You just make this decision that he's not worth saving without even _asking_ me?" She sobbed, staring at him with such a look of disillusionment and betrayal, of such disappointment that it sliced through him.

"No! Cordelia, _listen_ to me – that's not it at all. I just didn't know if…no, not _if_…I didn't know how _badly_ he was hurting you." He couldn't resist the opportunity to try and remind her again of what had been done to her, praying that one of these times it would bring his fiery tempered friend back to defend herself. "I was just trying to prepare for the worst in case it was the only way to protect you." Angel offered but it only brought on more rage.

"Protect me? _Protect_ me? It's _DOYLE_, damn it! So he's confused! So yeah – he's screwed up after DYING for us – you didn't think I'd be strong enough to face that if it meant getting him somewhere so we can find a way to _fix_ him?" She demanded.

Angel couldn't even speak, he was too angry to try. Doyle had gotten her exactly where he wanted her, confused and on his side.

"I think you better get the hell out of here." She said venomously as she started to turn to stalk away from him.

Without thinking it through (_and in retrospect he probably should have known better_) he reached out and pulled the collar of the shirt aside to reveal a vicious looking bite on her shoulder. Her face instantly twisted in outrage as she covered it.

Angel had never realized what a powerful punch Cordelia could throw if given the proper motivation, he was too stunned that she was even swinging to attempt to block it. He clutched his mouth and stared at her in shock after she'd given her best effort to break his jaw, a second later pulling his hand from his face, looking down at the blood – his own blood – as she glared up at him.

"Consider your invitation _revoked_." She said coldly.

He could only watch her go, flinching as her door was slammed closed with enough force to shake every window in the building.

Lyrics from Weak and Powerless by A Perfect Circle:

"_Little Angel go away, come again some other day  
The Devil has my ear today, I'll never hear a word you say  
He promised I would find a little solace and some peace of mind  
Whatever, just as long as I don't feel so desperate and ravenous  
So weak and powerless…"_

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Angel went to check on Wesley every night. He spent most of his time aside from that watching over Cordelia's apartment from a warehouse across the street that (_thankfully_) had sewer access in its basement. He hadn't been sleeping much, understandably, and used the extra time to search the books he'd brought from Wesley's apartment for the symbols he'd seen on Doyle's chest.

The first week was difficult; all that time alone provided no distraction from replaying the night over and over in his head. He kept seeing that grin – that satisfied, _evil_ grin on Doyle's face as he'd turned Cordelia against him. The look in his eyes that told Angel there was nothing of his friend inside that body aside from memories being used for manipulation.

He hated that the way he was feeling in that moment, alone and hurting but forced to go on was exactly what Buffy had gone through when he'd turned Angelus on her.

Alright, no, not exactly – for him it was a friend (albeit one of the only two real friends he'd had in over two hundred years of existence) that he was dealing with the possibility of having to kill, for her it had been the love of her life. It was still excruciating to contemplate and he didn't have a Scooby-gang around to distract him from his brooding. He wanted to call her, to tell her he was sorry for everything that had happened between them but it would be selfish. He would just be dragging her back down a well of pain she'd finally managed to climb out of in the hopes that he might feel better if he had someone to commiserate with. He managed to avoid finding a way to hear her voice; at least until she'd called his cell phone.

Apparently Cordelia hadn't been kidding when she said his invitation was revoked; she'd contacted Willow for the spell to make it official. Needless to say her request had raised some eyebrows back in Sunnydale. Buffy called to ask what had happened, pretending to be concerned with his and Cordelia's problem but he knew the truth – even after Cordy had dismissed the concern she had wanted to hear for herself that it wasn't due to him changing back to Angelus. Their conversation was kept short; the words were cold and reminded them both of how far apart they'd grown. It made his pain worse instead of providing any comfort.

Thankfully Cordelia kept her curtains open to her front window or he didn't know what he would have done, he knew that when she walked by it every so often or sat reading in front of it on the sofa that it was deliberate. It grieved him to realize it wasn't for his peace of mind, it was because she wanted to show _Doyle_, if he was somewhere close by watching, that she was alone.

So there he sat in a cold warehouse while the only two friends he had in the world hated him for different reasons. That's right, as time wore on even he began to see this evil incarnation of Doyle as his lost friend. He couldn't tell himself, '_no, that's not him. Doyle is, as Cordelia said, in heaven or wherever it is the good guys go when they die_.' It wasn't working to ease the pain anymore. What if he really was inside that body somehow? What if there was a way to save him from what Wolfram & Hart had done to him? He had been too afraid to hope in the beginning, had steeled himself against the weakness it would cause and focused on keeping Cordelia safe. He'd prepared himself mentally for the likelihood that he would have to _kill Doyle_.

God even thinking those two words together in a sentence sapped him of his resolve.

Wesley was released from the hospital a week after his little run in with Doyle and the pipe, he was still in too much pain to walk around but at least he could breathe without blinding agony. Despite the attack he was willing to help Angel in his research, though Angel wondered if it was driven by the hope that he'd find a spell to kill the man who'd put him in Intensive Care.

It took some serious convincing for Cordelia to put the books Wesley had left at her apartment out in her hallway for Angel to pick them up, her condition was that she wouldn't have to see him or speak to him when he came. She'd called Wesley a few days later to say she'd had a vision but wouldn't give it to Angel directly; she relayed it to Wesley over the phone and informed him that from that point forward she'd be doing it in the same manner.

Grudgingly Angel had to resort to watching the news to find out what Doyle had been up to on any given day, if the visions were sharing the information with Cordelia she definitely wasn't passing it along. It seemed even though he was evil he still liked to go to the track, or at least he _had_ until something set him off. The smoldering ruins were broadcast from a helicopter camera as it hovered over the scene, zooming to show viewers that the horses had been saved – the same couldn't be said of nearly a hundred spectators. Every time a report came of a particularly brutal murder or an unexpected natural disaster that toppled a building Angel's stomach would tense at the probability that Doyle had been the cause, guilt settling over him that he should have tried to kill him in the warehouse that night. It was only slightly comforting that he knew he wouldn't have stood a chance.

He was now the only part of the original Angel Investigations that remained. Cordelia, Doyle, and hell even the _office_ was gone now. It made his efforts to 'help the hopeless' feel empty and pointless; when he responded to Cordelia's hand-me-down visions it was cut and dry – kill slime demon, get rid of slime demon's remains and leave. He had never appreciated quite so deeply that without Doyle and Cordelia he'd be nothing, that if they'd never given him their support and friendship he'd still be sitting in the darkness, killing vamps without looking twice at their victims. After Doyle died it had been Cordy that had kept him going, she'd made sure to honor his memory by keeping Angel in the game.

But now there was nothing; no reason to fight, no small measure of comfort in his miserable existence to make the struggle tolerable. The instant he caught himself considering ignoring the visions, abandoning the Powers as punishment for them allowing Doyle to die in the first place it felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. _He was playing right into this_, he realized. The latest torture from Wolfram & Hart was proving to be incredibly effective.

His and Wesley's search for the meaning of the tattoos on Doyle's flesh was stepped up considerably after that, books were shipped in from all over the world, favors were called in at every turn.

It was four weeks after Doyle's return when a knock on Wesley's apartment door led to the discovery that the law firm from hell's plan to drive a wedge between Cordelia and Angel had taken an unexpected turn. He'd been sitting at the dining room table, pouring over a book that had just arrived from the West Indies and barely looked up as Wesley went to answer the door, he knew whoever was knocking was human and didn't see the need to get up.

"_Cordelia!_ Well…what a pleasant surprise." Wesley stammered and Angel almost fell off his chair in his rush to get out to the living room. He slid to a halt when he came around the corner, letting his posture change to something he hoped would pass for casual.

Sure enough there she stood, her face filled with concern and eyes locked on Angel's. "Hi…listen, I umm…I need to talk to you." She said softly.

"Of course – come in, come in." Wesley said nervously, motioning for her to take a seat as Angel struggled to read the emotion in her face. Was it _uncertainty? Fear?_

"I'm…" She started once she was sitting on the couch, staring up into Angel's eyes only to falter and look down at her hands for a moment. "_God_…" She breathed, closing her eyes and wondering how such a tiny, two worded sentence could be so difficult to say.

"What is it?" Angel asked in a voice so soft he barely recognized it as his own, unable to mask his concern as he sat down on the coffee table in front of her.

She reached out and took his hand in hers; taking a deep breath to steady herself before scrunching up her face and blurting out, "I'm pregnant."

Angel's jaw nearly dislocated it fell open so quickly.

"Good_ Lord_…" breathed Wesley, ever slow on the uptake he stared at them in a mix of shock and revulsion. "You mean to say…that the _two of you_…?" He stammered.

Cordelia and Angel both spun to face him, quickly answering in indignant unison, "_**No!**_"

With a sigh and appreciative smile as Angel gave her hand a squeeze of support she continued. "I wasn't feeling right and already had an appointment for my yearly checkup; I mentioned that I was tired and queasy so they ran a blood panel just as standard procedure and…_surprise!_" She said, giving him an overwhelmed smile. She sat up straight as Angel reached out and laid a hand on her stomach.

"Well if not Angel, then who is the father?" Wesley asked before answering himself with an, "_Ooohh_…." followed up with the standard, "Good heavens…" as the weight of the situation finally dawned on him.

"Nice to see you're all caught up, chief. Glad you could join us." Cordelia said and shook her head. "We need to find him." She said softly, her soulful brown eyes burning into Angel's. "We need to _fix_ him…I'm not raising a baby alone."

"Two." Angel said in barely a whisper and watched her brow arch.

"_Excuse_ me?" She breathed, blinking repeatedly. After a second she gave a hopefully dismissive laugh and wave. "I'm sorry; I'm still a little out of it – there for a second I thought you said 'two'."

Angel swallowed hard and winced. "I did."

"Well two _**what**_? Two fixes? Because I know for _damned sure_ you weren't referring to two…" Cordelia said in a shrill tone of steadily raising panic, her grip on his hands becoming nearly painful.

"There are two heartbeats, Cordy." Angel said, flinching as her fingernails dug into his palm.

"Uh-huh, right." Cordelia said with wide eyes, her voice a few octaves too high as she nodded. "Me and baby-on-board makes two. _Two_ heartbeats. You just forgot to include mine since you don't have one, right? Easy mistake, I forgive you."

"I hate to be the fly in the ointment here, but there is _no_ fetal heartbeat yet, Angel. There won't be until at least the fifth week of gestation and even then it would barely be perceptible even with the most advanced…" Wesley began but Angel shook his head.

"And in an average human pregnancy, you'd be right." Angel said as he stared at Wesley intensely. "But this isn't an average human pregnancy. Trust me; my senses are more reliable than any machine you're going to find in a hospital. These babies are quarter demon…" He raised his voice to talk over Wesley and Cordelia as they both tried to argue their points. "And yes, I said '_babies'_, just like before I said '_two'_. Meaning exactly what it sounds like, there are two babies."

Thankfully Cordelia was already on the couch because she very promptly fainted.

* * *

**To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

"Here you are, drink up." Wesley said as he handed Cordelia a mug of tea. "And you'll need to eat; several small meals throughout the course of the day will keep your blood sugar steady. It will help you avoid feeling nauseous all the time." He informed her as he set down a plate with a peanut butter sandwich.

Cordelia nodded, her eyes were still wide as she sipped her tea. Her feet were propped up on a pillow on top of the coffee table beside Angel – who was watching over her like a mother hen.

"Are you feeling alright? Light headed or anything?" Angel asked, pushing her hair back from her face.

"I'm…fine…" She said in a dazed tone. Her eyes were out of focus but for the fiftieth time she turned to him and gave him a pleading look. "_Two?_" She asked again and he smirked.

"Two." He said with a nod, watching her take a deep breath and clutch her mug of tea as if it was the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"Well, I suppose we'll need to draw Doyle…or whatever it is that presently inhabits Doyle…out of hiding so we can inform him." Wesley thought aloud.

"Or _not_, we don't have any idea how he'll react to the news that…" Angel began but Cordy's voice cut in.

"He knows." She said softly, still sipping her tea as she stared at some distant point on the wall across the room.

"I beg your pardon?" Wesley said in confusion. "So you've spoken to him?"

Angel watched her shake her head slowly and scanned his memory of all things Brachen for any references to psychic links, he had nothing.

"No…but he made this weird comment that didn't make sense to me before…" She said with a sigh. "He said something about how he'd taken care of the deposits and needed to get to the withdrawals. I was kind of out of it but remember being annoyed that it took a major case of the _evils_ for Doyle to start speaking money fluently."

Angel tilted his head to the side. "When did he say that?"

"He said it after…" Cordelia began, but finishing that sentence in her mind seemed to snap her out of her daze and she trailed off. A quick look at Angel's face confirmed that he didn't need her to elaborate so she continued. "And right before he started acting out what happened the night he died."

Angel's posture went rigid as it dawned on him.

"What?" Cordelia asked. "You've got that '_I just figured something out_' look."

"Right, as in '_I just figured out why Wolfram & Hart would want Doyle back'_." He shook his head and scowled. "He was trying to take the visions. _That's_ why he wanted to reenact the night he died; he was trying to trigger you passing them to him the same way he passed them to you."

* * *

"Miss Chase's medical record has been updated, as of 11:00 today Cordelia is listed as being in her fourth week of gestation." Lilah said as she entered the room, smiling over at Doyle as she closed the folder she was carrying. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

"What can I say, I've got impeccable aim." Doyle said with a grin before pointing at Lindsey. "Told you I'd had enough time with her."

"This is excellent news. Well done, Mr. Doyle." Holland said with his ever present smile. "You'll go to her at once, lure her away from the others so our team can bring her into custody."

Doyle looked over at him quizzically and Holland laughed.

"Not to kill her, of course, at least not until after she's given birth. You'll be free to use her as you see fit until then, just as long as your…_activities_…in no way endanger the children. As we agreed you'll be permitted to extract whatever pleasures the body you've taken is craving from her – I believe eight months will be a sufficient amount of time to ensure that." Holland said casually as if negotiating the terms of a business deal.

Doyle nodded. "That's plenty long enough; I'll likely get bored of her after a few weeks anyway."

Holland studied the face of their associate, searching for any hint that this revelation was being received with hostility. The ice blue eyes that stared back at him seemed to hold nothing but amusement for the situation and Holland smiled as he smacked his hand down on the table. "That's what I like to hear. We'll need to keep her in our custody for the term of the pregnancy; can't very well have those babies out there growing where just anyone could get a hold of them – not with how valuable they'll be to the firm once they're born."

"Then tell your boys to get ready and give me a yell when it's time to go. Let's bring her back here so I can start reaping the benefits of my employment." Doyle said with a grin and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

His face didn't change; his posture and expression gave no outward indication of the thoughts that were suddenly raging in his mind.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

There were now two notepads at the center of the table. Vague symbols sketched by Angel from his recollection had been there previously throughout their search but hadn't been very helpful. He was going by what he'd seen from a distance and for the most part he'd only caught glimpses of them as Doyle had stood behind Cordelia.

This _new_ addition, however, was far more accurate. Despite how distraught Cordelia had been that night she'd still had the presence of mind to sit and sketch every marking she'd seen on Doyle during their time together. Inside of thirty minutes they had located the proper dialect and were now scouring pages of ancient text trying to match them up.

"Got one!" Angel said, jumping up as if ready to call out '_Bingo!_' He pointed at the page as he leaned down beside Wesley. "Right there – see it?" He asked as he drew Wesley's attention to the symbol.

Cordelia stretched forward across the table hopefully, trying to see what they were looking at.

"Yes…this would be used to prevent the body from experiencing conscience or remorse…very interesting." He said, not noticing how Cordy and Angel both deflated at the translation and exchanged a disappointed look. _Big whoop – they already knew Evil Doyle didn't have a conscience_.

With frustrated sighs they got back to work, the hours passing slowly as they translated more and more of what they already knew. One symbol allowed the body to be used as a vessel for evil, another allowed the darkness to enter the body when taken to the instant before mortal death by wounds inflicted with a specific type of cursed blade, there were several which allowed the body to heal at an accelerated rate…blah blah and more blah.

There was nothing to indicate what the evil was that had taken up residence in Doyle's body or how to destroy it. Cordelia frowned more severely as the time went on, hoping that one of the symbols translated into a set of step-by-step _'how to drive the evil out of your resurrected boyfriend so he can be a non-psychotic father figure for your quarter-demon children'_ instructions.

It was Wesley's soft murmuring of, 'that's strange' that finally broke the silence.

"What? What's strange?" Cordelia asked, her voice giving away how eager she was for some good news here.

"This symbol…it's unlike the others. It…_huh_…" He said distractedly and Angel and Cordelia shot one another irritated looks. "It seems to be used to prevent…but that can't be right…why would…." Wesley said to himself.

Angel ran a hand over his face, finally unable to stand it any longer. "What does it say?" He asked impatiently.

Wesley looked up at him as if suddenly remembering that he wasn't the only one in the room. "Oh, it's a means of preventing the soul from entering the body."

Cordelia looked at them in confusion. "Why would they need that?"

"My question exactly; it would seem the only logical explanation is that the return of the soul to this body would be an issue for the darkness." Wesley said as he leaned back in his chair.

"So this is like some whole free will thing? Like if Doyle gets his soul he'll be able to make his own choices?" Cordelia asked.

Angel stood and paced the room, talking himself through some things that were confusing him. "You know what? Everything we've read has called this 'evil' and 'darkness', it hasn't sited any demon or entity by name. What if we don't need to be looking for a demon – what if this is just pure evil they've put into his body?"

Wesley's brows drew together. "You're talking about the _essence_ of evil?"

"Like evil in vapor form?" Cordelia asked, struggling to follow why this was an important shift in thinking.

"Right; what if this wasn't an evil entity at all – just the element itself being given a host? What if wasn't a being, per say, didn't come with its own thoughts or motives, it's simply in there corrupting what came with Doyle's body?" Angel asked, more of himself than anyone else as he leaned his fists on the table but Wesley was following his train of thought.

"That's dangerous territory even for Wolfram & Hart's standards. Evil is unpredictable and erratic by its very nature, giving it a body to control leaves a _great deal_ to speculation – they have no way of knowing how it will react to the sudden existence of its own consciousness, how it will respond to the experience of humanity." Wesley said thoughtfully. "It does seem to add up though, the return of the soul would certainly present a problem for it – we are all able to fight off the evil inside of us. Were Doyle's soul to return to his body it would be as Cordelia said, his free will would be restored as well – the darkness would no longer have an empty shell to manipulate."

Both men spun as Cordy unexpectedly started clapping and bouncing in her chair. "I got it right! Yay me!" She said with a grin.

Wesley's face slowly took on a troubled expression. "How many symbols do we have left to translate?" He asked.

Cordelia eyed him suspiciously. "Three…_why?"_ She said as she handed him the notepad. "You look like you just realized something you aren't sharing with the whole class."

"I'm just…give me a few moments…" He said distractedly, slipping back into research mode.

Cordelia sighed and went to the kitchen, finding some crackers and grabbing a glass of juice for herself before returning. Despite the fact that she found most of the knowledge in Wesley's head to be intolerably boring or deeply disturbing, she had to give him kudos for his little blood sugar tip; she hadn't felt queasy at all since following his advice.

It only took him twenty minutes to finish the translations and he sat back in his chair looking even more perplexed when he was done.

"What did you find?" Angel asked, standing across the room leaning against the wall in his normal brooding posture.

"_Nothing_…" Wesley breathed in concern. "I mean at least not anything new. These are all symbols to maintain the darkness…to give it the ability to manifest into destructive energy and so on…but I didn't find what I was looking for and frankly it's making this whole thing rather puzzling." He confessed.

"What were you looking for?" Cordelia asked as she popped another cracker into her mouth.

"Well we've established that there is a marking to prevent the return of the soul, but we seem to be missing a rather crucial step here." He looked at them both intensely. "How did they drive it out to begin with? It would stand to reason that resurrecting Doyle would bring his soul back as well, but if that were the case they would have needed to remove it."

"Cordelia, you had a vision of the ritual – do you remember anything other than the tattoos being put in place?" Angel asked.

She shook her head and replayed it in her mind. "No, they were cutting him; drawing the marks on his skin…he was…_screaming_…" Her eyes saddened at the memory and she cleared her throat before continuing. "And then he told me to stay away from him…in retrospect I guess I really should have listened." She said bitterly.

Wesley let out a tell-tale, '_huh'_ and the other two turned to him. "So he spoke to you as the ritual was being performed? Did it seem as though he could see you there?"

"No…" Cordelia said and shook her head as she thought it through.

"Maybe he knew the visions would show her what happened and screamed it so it would reach her." Angel offered.

"_No_…he didn't scream it, at least not…" Cordelia's face twisted in confusion. "I mean he didn't actually open his mouth and speak the words…"

Angel and Wesley gave her a look that clearly told her they had no idea what she was trying to say.

She sighed in exasperation. "I was in the vision but something stopped it, I don't know how to describe it, it's never happened before. It was like something pushed me out of the room – like a wall had gone up between us and what was happening so I couldn't see it. Then he told me I needed to stay away from him but he didn't _physically_ say it." She looked back and forth between them. "Does that make any sense?"

Wesley chose his words carefully. "Cordelia, you said a wall went up between '_us_ and what was happening'." He said softly. "Is that correct?"

"Yeah." She answered, not realizing the relevance.

"You recall feeling his presence with you in the vision outside of his body, then?" Wesley asked and watched Cordelia's eyes widen in surprise.

"Yeah – I did." She said.

"You're thinking…" Angel began but trailed off.

"That visions weren't the only thing Doyle transferred to her with their kiss." Wesley finished. "It would make sense; the Powers were sending visions to him spiritually, not physically. Perhaps what he gave her served as a sort of forwarding address, if you will. What if he managed to transfer the visions by passing his soul to her?" He tapped his finger on the page. "Wolfram & Hart placed this symbol on Doyle's body to prevent his soul from being returned because they already counted on it being attempted. They intended to have you release the soul and the link the Powers had established with it but blocked it from returning to Doyle's body."

Angel shook his head. "So they don't want him to take the visions, they just want her to let them go."

Cordelia groaned and covered her eyes. "This is confusing, Angel – give me the cliff notes."

Angel spoke sideways to her without taking his eyes from Wesley, muttering the simple version quickly. "You have Doyle's soul; you try to pass the visions to his body that symbol will prevent it and sever my link to the Powers."

"Oh – see, that was easy enough." Cordy said with a smile. "So as long as I don't try to give him the visions we should be all set."

"Well…perhaps…if we can… it would possibly be…" Wesley began, gradually sounding more distracted and Cordy shook her head.

"Nope, no burying yourself in the books this time, mister. Out with it." She said, arching a brow at him when he looked up at her.

"I was just thinking, if we can find a way to rid him of those symbols…" Wesley said thoughtfully and Cordelia smiled.

"That's it! You're a genius!" She said happily. "All we have to do is figure out how to render a little magical ink removal, I kiss him and voila! Doyle's back!"

Angel's hand tightened around her forearm and she paused in her celebration when she turned and found him looking around the room worriedly.

"I think he already is …"Angel said quietly, sensing that familiar crackling of magic.

As if answering his words the door shattered inward. Cordelia screamed, ducking down as Angel shielded her from the splinters that were flying across the apartment.

"What _is it_ with you guys?" Cordelia heard Doyle's familiar voice ask in disbelief a second later as Angel helped her back onto her feet. "Angel, man – ya know that question ya asked me before?"

Angel stood upright, his back looking like a pin cushion as he turned to face Doyle with Cordelia behind him. "What question was that?" He asked, trying to keep her shielded and wincing as she pulled a few of the larger pieces from him.

"Ya wanted to know if my reaction would have been different if I'd found _you_ touching Cordy instead of Wesley…" Doyle said.

"And?" Angel asked but didn't have to wait long for an answer. An unseen force plowed into him, sending him flying away from Cordelia and into the kitchen, slamming him against the upper cabinets violently. He fell to the ground in a surprising amount of pain; it took him a second to realize that the impact had driven every one of the splintered pieces of the door into him. As soon as he tried to get up Doyle glared and his face was forced down against the linoleum, energy pinning him in place effortlessly.

"Hope that clears things up for ya." Doyle said with a smile. He turned to Wesley and watched the man realizing that he was unable to move a muscle, heard him struggling to breathe as the energy that was holding him tightened severely. "You can fight it if you want but I do promise you this, no amount of time in the hospital will fix you after. I've already given you a warning shot." His grin widened seeing the acceptance pass over Wesley's features. "Smart man." He said, finally turning his attention to the one he was really here for.

"_Princess_…" He said, licking his lips and letting his features soften as he approached her. "Is it possible you've gotten even more beautiful since last I saw you? You look divine."

Cordelia's heart was pounding inside her chest, her eyes passing back and forth between her friends and hand absently wandering to her belly. Angel and Wesley couldn't help her; she was on her own here. She'd never had such a terrible feeling of helplessness before – worrying that anything she did to get away might result in injury not only to herself but to the tiny lives inside of her. She gasped as she looked back to where Doyle had been across the apartment and instead found him standing right in front of her.

Did it make her a bad person that she found herself happily noting that his fashion sense had improved dramatically? The button-up Versace dress shirt he wore was a shade of blue that made his eyes _pop_ and here's a shocker, it had a _normal_ sized collar. No beat-up leather jacket was covering it, no vintage t-shirt was present beneath it and even if there was she wouldn't have seen it, he actually had all of the buttons done for once. Add to that the black slacks his shirt was actually tucked into and, _my God_, the pair of black leather Gucci loafers on his feet and it seemed evil incarnate was as aware of proper attire as she was…she vaguely wondered if that should offend her.

"Don't worry, love…" Doyle whispered, bringing her back to reality with one hand caressing her cheek, the other brushing hers aside and gently wandering across her stomach. "I'm not gonna let anything happen to you…or to them." Her heart skipped a beat as those blue eyes stared down into hers adoringly, she couldn't bring herself to look away as he brought his lips to hers and kissed her sweetly.

He stood up straight and looked over her shoulder at Angel, staring at him for a moment thoughtfully. "See ya around, man." He called before smiling down at Cordy and handing her purse to her. (_Did she seriously just see a Cartier watch on his wrist? Oh hells no.) _"Come now, time to let Wolfram & Hart know I've decided to resign…" He said, mischief flashing in his eyes as he took her hand in his.

Cordelia looked at him in disbelief, casting one last glance over her shoulder at Wesley and Angel before being led out the doorway of the apartment.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

Apparently Doyle's resignation meant taking out a team of more than thirty heavily armed men that were waiting outside under the false belief that they were going to be taking Cordelia into their custody. He'd walked out the front door with her, his arm wrapped around her as he kissed her forehead and told her how much he'd missed her, how beautiful she looked in the sunset, smiling at the confusion and distrust on her face at his kind words.

_She_ knew he was evil, _he_ knew _she_ knew he was evil…so why was he acting like this? Shouldn't he be cursing at her or trying to make her cry or something? She didn't have to wonder about it for too long.

With a gasp she turned and saw the first group of men rushing forward, she didn't know why she screamed, "_Doyle!_" or instinctively pressed against him. She was supposed to be afraid of him…right? Maybe this was a '_better the devil you know than the devil you don't know_' situation.

The men swarmed them, thinking they were just going to grab her and haul her off to the van waiting down at the street like they'd planned. That's not what happened. Doyle's arm around her shoulders drew her closer as all hell broke loose.

The first wave of men hit a wall of black energy that radiated outward from Doyle in the blink of an eye and were…well, _crushed_ from what she could tell; given that their bodies were popping like grapes when she looked up from hiding her face against Doyle's chest she supposed that was the best way to describe it. She'd very promptly gone back to staring at a blue collared shirt and the chest hair that was peeking out at the top as a result of her gripping the fabric – it was a wonderful alternative to the gore that surrounded them. Her brows drew together as she sniffed, was he wearing _Giorgio Armani_? Oh, he really was an _evil_ bastard, she decided as she happily huffed away on him and tried to think happy, non-gory thoughts.

Another wave of men rushed forward, their boots slapping along the asphalt as they drew closer and she looked up (_of course immediately wishing she hadn't since, hello, gore still present_). They aimed their guns at Doyle and she shrieked and huddled against him, squeezing her eyes closed as they opened fire. She shouldn't have but she did, should have noted that Doyle was unimpressed by the weapons.

After several seconds without feeling any of the expected bullet wounds she opened her eyes to the sounds of men screaming in agony, trying not to gag when she turned and found them all being burned alive where they stood.

She looked up at Doyle in shock as the chaos raged on around them, finding his eyes completely black but a smile still on his lips.

"So what d'ya think of the name Shaughnessy?" He asked casually.

Cordelia blinked repeatedly, her mind having a great deal of difficulty coming to terms with this discussion taking place while…_yeah_…

"_Umm_…" She shook her head trying to gather her thoughts. "Boy or girl?" She asked over the sounds of crunching metal and glass as the van was overturned.

"Boy." He said. "Shaughn for short, always liked that name."

Cordelia felt dizzy but held onto him to steady herself. "It's nice…we'll put it on the list of possibilities. What about Selia? I heard it a while back and always thought it would be pretty for a little girl."

Hey, this wasn't so bad…it was proving to be a very effective distraction from…

"_Oh God, make it stop!" _one of the Wolfram & Hart cronies shrieked as he ran by them completely engulfed in flames.

She winced, trying to focus on Doyle and not the death and destruction he was unleashing on their surroundings or the swirling blackness of his eyes. "Selia's a beautiful name; Irish, too. Did ya know tha?" He asked with a sly smile and she shook her head. "I think you've just got a taste for all things Celtic, love." He teased.

_Teased_.

While setting people on _fire_.

* * *

"Oh…_my_…" Wesley breathed as he stumbled out the door of his apartment building and found the front lawn scorched and covered in bodies. "Good…_Lord_…" He continued as he looked around in astonishment, finding a van that had been wedged into a tree with apparent hurricane force at least forty feet off the ground.

Angel walked out slowly behind him carrying a duffle-bag of books, taking in the warzone with wide eyes. "So…_yeah_…Doyle quit Wolfram & Hart." He looked over at Wesley in astonishment and asked him deadpan, "do you think they'll sue for damage to company property?"

After a moment to let the shock wear off Wesley turned to him. "What do you think provoked him to do this?" He asked.

Angel sighed and looked up at the van, motioning for Wesley to walk with him as he started toward the street; they really needed to get out of there before Kate showed up and tried to pin all of this on him. "Well if I had to venture a guess, given the way he's responded so far to anyone touching Cordelia…" Angel began. Wesley's hand instinctively went to his sternum; Angel's went to the wounds in his back that were still trying to close, both of them made mental notes not to let Cordy hug them when they found her. "I'd say Wolfram & Hart made the mistake of trying to hurt her."

"Did he seem to be acting…a bit…I mean…rather uncharacteristically…for one filled with evil…" Wesley began, struggling to put words to his thoughts.

"_Pleasant?_ Yeah, he did. I for one would prefer it if he stopped sounding so…_Doyle_-like while tossing me around like a rag-doll." Angel said with a sigh. "But I know which part caught your attention because it did mine as well; the way he's acting with Cordelia…it's…" He trailed off.

"Something troubles me." Wesley said, changing subjects as a new concern took precedence in his mind.

"You mean aside from Doyle's apparent ability to make bodies explode?" Angel asked as he stepped over the puddle of what had been one of Cordelia's attempted kidnappers.

"What? Oh…_yes_…" Wesley said, curling a lip as he sidestepped viscera on the pavement. "I'm starting to wonder about Cordelia's pregnancy. She said that Doyle rattled it off in his 'deposits and withdrawals' statement, it would seem that both were parts of a checklist for him."

Angel arched a brow. "Go on."

"And then today, after not seeing Doyle for more than four weeks he just so happens to arrive within hours of Cordelia finding out that she is carrying his children." Wesley said as they walked down the street, talking over the sirens of the police cars that were rushing past them toward the apartment building. "Forgive me but I can't chalk his arrival up to coincidence – Wolfram & Hart certainly has the means to keep tabs on Cordelia's medical record, this timely response would indicate that they've been watching it for just this reason, _expecting_ it. So if they intended for Doyle and Cordelia to conceive and then meant to kidnap her after they were sure it had been successful, what are their motivations?"

"You think it was a package deal, that they brought him back not only to sever my link to the Powers but also to get Cordelia pregnant. Why? I mean, why _their_ children? What would be significant enough about them to raise someone from the dead to ensure they were conceived?" Angel asked, his brows drawn together thoughtfully.

Wesley's hand patted the scroll in his pocket. "Perhaps it all comes back to this." He said gravely.

"_The prophecies_, so you think Cordelia and Doyle's children may have been foretold?" Angel asked, hating where all this was heading.

"It does seem to fit Wolfram & Hart's track record. If they'd read in a prophecy that they could benefit in some way from children born of two seers linked to the Powers That Be I'm sure it would have been reason enough to go to the lengths they did to ensure their conception." Wesley said as they reached Angel's car. "With as possessive as Doyle has been of Cordelia perhaps he learned of their plans and was acting to prevent any harm befalling her. I would have to imagine, evil or no, he would be naturally inclined to protect his offspring in any manner possible."

"Yeah, that did seem like the work of one supremely pissed off Dad back there." Angel said as he tossed the bag in the backseat and climbed behind the wheel. "And you're right, he is protecting his young. Before they left he whispered to Cordelia that he wouldn't let anything happen to her or the babies."

Wesley looked at him in confusion for a second, ready to ask how he'd heard the whisper when twice as far away from the couple as he'd been but stopped at the obviousness of the answer. "I suppose we can go to Cordelia's apartment for the time being, we need to focus on finding a way to remove those markings…"

"Can't." Angel said in frustration. "She performed one of those damned revocation spells."

"_And the fun never stops_." Wesley breathed bitterly. "There may be a way to combat it, of course it would involve a great deal of research and time which we _should_ be spending on finding a way to rid Doyle of the symbols…and I can't say I'm comfortable showing you how to do it with the possibility of you losing your soul and…_wait_, who are you calling?" Wesley asked in confusion as he looked over and found Angel dialing.

"Testing a theory." Angel said, pressing the phone to his ear.

Three rings later a thoroughly amused Irish voice answered Cordelia's phone. "Angel, man – I'm surprised you called! You looking to take me up on that offer to grab a pint? Maybe celebrate that I'm gonna be a Da and you an Uncle?"

"Only if you promise the only thing you'll throw at the wall will be darts." Angel said, smiling so it would be clear in his voice.

"What a good sport you are – how's the back by the way?" Doyle asked.

"Not as bad as it could have been…if one of those slivers of wood had been a few inches lower your future tots would be down one Uncle Angel." He said with a touch of bitterness in his tone.

Doyle laughed. "And then who would we get to babysit overnight? Ah well, no hard feelings, yeah? Hey, d'ya think Wolfram & Hart got the message or was I too subtle?" He asked and Angel could hear the grin on his face as he said it.

"That's the reason I'm calling – me and Wesley are on our way to Cordelia's place now. We figure your abrupt decision to leave the firm had something to do with them wanting to hurt Cordy, right?" Angel asked and there was a long pause before Doyle responded.

He was thinking it through, wondering what ulterior motive Angel could have for wanting to know Wolfram & Hart's plans for her. After laying it out he decided it couldn't hurt him in any way to share the info – especially not if it meant Angel would retaliate. The enemy of your enemy is your friend, after all. Angel had counted on this unspoken understanding between them.

"Ya know…it's not usually a smart move to inform a man, no matter how evil he happens to be, that you've plans to kill the woman carrying his children so you can use them for your own devices. They honestly believed after saying, '_hey – congrats – Cordelia's pregnant_' that following it up with '_we're gonna kill her as soon as she gives birth and keep the babies_' would go over well. They spoke about her like _cattle_, man …" Doyle let out a disgusted sigh, as he'd spoken his tone had gradually dropped to something dangerous and entirely unfamiliar to Angel's ears – not that Angel was thinking about that after receiving confirmation of his fears.

Doyle's low voice in his ear brought Angel back from his worries for Cordelia's safety. "They don't understand, yeah? They work around evil, with evil, _for_ evil, each have their own evil in their hearts…but they've not got a clue, do they?"

Angel found his foot easing off the accelerator in shock as he realized the confession he was hearing. Even though the version of Doyle speaking was darkness, not the friend he missed so dearly, it was still opening up to him for some reason. It was commiserating with him like Doyle always had, using his friend's voice to address a subject he never thought they'd have mutual experience in. He swallowed hard, squinting to see the road with tear-blurred vision before responding in a strained voice, "No, Doyle – they really don't."

"But _you_ do – _you_ know." Doyle said determinedly.

Angel's jaw flexed. "But _I do_."

Doyle smiled and nodded, taking a deep breath and trying to place the strange sensations this conversation was stirring in him. Somehow his frustration seemed to ease at Angel's understanding of what he'd been trying to say…

After a moment he forced the confusing thoughts back, hating the uncertainty they were causing. When he spoke again his voice had returned to that familiar tone. "So you were gonna say something about Cordelia's place?" He asked, surprising Angel yet again by changing the subject.

"Umm…" Angel said, shaking off his own emotions. "Wesley was saying that if Wolfram & Hart can get access to her apartment they can get to her hairbrushes and things like that – might use it to cast something on her in retaliation for your little van-in-the-tree stunt."

"They wouldn't risk the babies." Doyle said dismissively but Angel could hear that he'd struck a nerve.

"No, but they _would_ make her _suffer_ and draw you out by doing it." Angel pressed, knowing it wasn't something Doyle wanted to hear.

After another long pause the irritated response came. "What are ya askin?"

"Cordelia revoked my invitation to her apartment after–_ someone_ _who shall remain nameless _– made her angry with me." Angel said and was cut off by an outburst of laughter.

"Who would do something like tha?" Doyle asked in feigned innocence. "So she locked ya out, did she? She's a fiery one…good for her…" He said, looking over at where she was sleeping in the passenger seat of the car he'd stolen. Apparently all the excitement had worn her out. "You're wanting an invite then, is that it? Why not just have Wesley go get her stuff if that's all you're after?" He asked, suspicious but still amused.

No use in lying. "Well obviously I'm gonna need a place to avoid those pesky sunrays since the office was blown up and Wesley's apartment is currently crawling with cops…plus I figured if you're gonna make yourself scarce someone ought to be there with a little surprise for whoever they send." Angel told him, knowing that the idea of someone retaliating against Wolfram & Hart would be too good for him to pass up.

Doyle laughed. "No wonder they hate you so much – alright, hang on." He put the phone in his lap and reached over to shake her shoulder lightly. "Princess, need ya to wake up for a minute." He said quietly and watched her slowly open her eyes. "Did ya revoke Angel's invitation?" He asked with a smile and she looked at him in confusion.

"Yeah…why?" She asked groggily, looking around and trying to gauge how far they'd traveled while she was asleep.

"Need ya to tell him he's allowed back in." He said, picking up the phone and holding it out in front of her. When she reached for it he shook his head and arched a brow, he might be willing to let Angel risk his life if it meant taking out a few Wolfram & Hart cronies but he wasn't stupid. "All ya need to do is say it, love. He'll hear ya fine."

Cordelia frowned, his action reminding her that even if he wasn't holding her down and making her cry in that moment he definitely wasn't _her_ Doyle. She sighed, leaning closer to the phone to say, "Angel, you are officially invited back into my apartment."

"Did ya catch tha?" Doyle asked as he put the phone to his ear.

"I did, thanks…I don't suppose you'll tell me where you're headed?" Angel asked with a smirk.

"Nice try, bud. Somewhere she'll be safe, that's all ya need to know." Doyle told him, though he was unsure why he had. His brows drew together thoughtfully as that same strange sensation passed over him. This conversation was confusing and needed to end. "Well have fun with your little surprise – and hey, keep in touch. They can't tap or trace her phone as they're finding out right now, it's the damnedest thing – seems they're having a hard time with some kind of interference, overloads their servers. We'll talk later."

Angel shook his head as he heard the line go dead. Silence settled over the car and he ignored Wesley's expectant eyes on him as he drove. He felt emptiness inside him worsening with each passing moment, as if every mile Cordelia and Doyle traveled away from him was wearing down on him. It gnawed at him, left him feeling alone – and not in the good way.

It was several moments before Wesley's curiosity finally prevented him from staying quiet any longer. "So…what news?" He asked casually, a bit confused by the way Angel had been speaking in such a friendly manner with the epitome of evil in corporal form.

"Hmm?" Angel said distractedly, still in deep thought.

"What did he _say?_" Wesley asked impatiently. "About _Cordelia?_"

Angel sighed. "What he _said_ was that Wolfram & Hart plan to kidnap her, hold her until the birth of the children and then kill her. What he _didn't_ say, but told me anyway, is that we don't need to worry about her safety…because he's actually in love with her."

Wesley stared at the side of his head for at least a solid two minutes in silence before the sputtering and stammering started. "_I…beg…your…pardon..._need I remind you that this is not some man with a heart and soul capable of…"

Angel arched a brow and cut in. "Actually a 'man with a heart' is exactly what he is…Wolfram & Hart made that possible, remember? And the soul part? Not relevant. He's right; that law firm…and apparently the Watchers Society, too…spend so much time working in the presence of evil but don't seem to understand it very well."

"_You_…how _dare_…that's _not_…" Wesley began indignantly; his complexion darkening at the unfamiliar experience of being told there was something he was failing to grasp.

Angel sighed. "Wesley – just because someone is evil it doesn't mean they lack the capacity for love or the ability to appreciate beauty. Even as Angelus I was capable of experiencing love, it wasn't the same as it is with a soul but it was real, nonetheless." He explained, which over the course of the following hour he wished he hadn't because Wesley latched onto the subject like a dog on a bone.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

"Cordelia, you awake, love?" Doyle asked, reaching over to shake her shoulder and smiling when she swatted his hand away.

She sat upright in an instant, glaring at him furiously as she launched into a tirade. She was even nicely rested for it. "Alright, I've had enough – what the _hell_ is with all this nice stuff? You just beat up my friends, killed like a _hundred_ guys…"

"Thirty two, actually." Doyle corrected, his smile widening when it successfully made her even angrier.

"What…why…you're totally missing the point!" She snapped.

"No I'm not, I'm simply saying I don't feel we need to exaggerate the actual number of deaths, wouldn't be right to take credit without the fun of _actually_ killing the other sixty eight you've dreamt up in your mind. But now that we've cleared that up, by all means, continue on your rant." He said and gave a sideways glance to watch her scowl reach epic proportions.

"You do your best to make Angel a part of the kitchen décor…or _complete_ lack there of…in Wesley's apartment, you pin Wesley down when he's finally starting to heal from you breaking just about every bone in his chest – _and_, might I add, you've never even _once_ taken the time to properly introduce yourself to him…" Cordelia began and Doyle tried to suppress his amusement at hearing her priorities. "You kill _thirty two_ guys with your little black-magic shtick, you steal us this…" Her expression softened as she looked around the interior of the car, "_unbelievably_ posh Mercedes with _fantastic_ leather, I mean seriously this stuff is like butter…" She breathed as she ran her hand over the back of the seat but caught herself a second later, trying to remember where she was going with this…oh yeah! "And the whole time you're treating me all sweet and stuff despite the fact that, _hello_, you're _EVIL!_ What gives?" She demanded.

"Well I figured it was the least I could do after…" He began but she cut him off again, leaving him to look out his side-view mirror to make his smirk less noticeable.

"And don't think for one _second_ that I'm ever going to forget what you're capable of, buster! You're not getting off the hook for that; I don't care–" She paused as he passed her a box.

"You'll need to put that on." He said, trying not to laugh at how she was desperately trying to continue her tirade and ignore her intrigue at the blue box in her hands. "You were saying?"

"Right – I was saying that I don't care…how many…little…ring sized…Tiffany's…boxes you give me…" She said, slowly losing the momentum of her argument as she opened it. Her eyes bulged seeing its contents. "Or how _beautiful_ the ring…inside…may…is this _3 carats?_" Cordelia asked in a hopeful tone as she turned to face him and he nodded. She blinked repeatedly, shaking her head and clearing her throat, forcing a scowl back onto her face even as she slid the ring onto her finger. "_Regardless_, you're still evil and it doesn't matter if your taste in clothes and jewelry and your bank account has apparently improved since…where are we going?" She asked, derailing again as she noted the pink palace of a five star resort they were pulling into.

"Hmm? Oh, like I told Angel – somewhere you'll be safe – but please, go on with what you were saying." He said and noted that she was all but pressing herself to the window now, her breathing sounding like she was getting ready to have a money-meltdown.

"Umm…_saying_…I was…saying…something _important_…" Cordelia trailed off, unable to speak as she took in the beauty of the place.

"Just follow my lead, alright?" Doyle said as he pulled up to the valet, though he doubted that would be any problem judging by her reaction to the door being opened for her and a member of the hotel staff helping her out of the car as if she were made of glass. He fought the urge to kill the man, deciding to let him off the hook since minimal contact had been made during the act. Besides, his attentions were more on her expression in that moment than homicidal thoughts.

A well-dressed man hurried over and shook Doyle's hand exuberantly. "Mr. Dalton, my name is Mr. Luvisutto and I will be your personal concierge. On behalf of the Don CeSar let me welcome you to our resort; it is truly an honor to have you staying with us. Please, follow me – our staff will take your bags."

Doyle shook his head. "Don't have any; figured we're celebrating new beginnings...why not start fresh?" He said with a smile as he handed his keys to the valet and walked over to take Cordelia's arm in his.

The man clasped his hands in front of him and grinned at the prospect of them spending a ridiculous amount of money at the resort. "Very good, sir – a marvelous idea; and might I say congratulations to you and Ms. Ryan – twins are quite a blessing."

Cordelia turned and looked back at him in awe, too stunned to speak and Doyle cleared his throat. "She's still letting it sink in, we didn't know we could conceive at all let alone with _twins_ – and then the engagement, she's had more excitement in one day than most get in their lives." He let his eyes pass over her face adoringly as he ran a hand over her hair. "I think it all seems a bit unreal for her at this point. She'll relax once we get upstairs."

"Of course, I would imagine it to be a great deal to take in all at once. Please, allow me to show you to the penthouse, everything is as you've requested." He assured them as he led the way.

Cordelia arched a thoroughly impressed brow at the word 'penthouse', turning to face Doyle slowly and looking ready to burst with a million questions. He mouthed a discrete '_shush'_ to her and flashed her the best smile this body had in its extensive wardrobe of smiles, the one with the dimples and glittering eyes and all that. It had the desired effect, a genuine smile formed on her lips in response as she kept her silence.

She let the massive, breathtaking lobby and the beautiful fountain at its center catch her attention a second later. Taking in the interior of the resort and its towering ceilings kept her happily occupied as they made their trek. Listening to Luvisutto rambling about things like their own private section of beach which was available to them 24 hours a day and personal chef that would be on call to cater to any craving, any time kept her head spinning as the elevator carried them up through the many floors.

When they reached the penthouse and the elevator doors slid open Cordelia leaned against Doyle heavily, holding onto his arm in a vice grip as they stepped out into the suite that took up the entire top level of the hotel. Chandeliers bathed the extravagantly furnished suite in a soft, welcoming glow; classical music was playing faintly from an unseen source setting an atmosphere of tranquility. She managed to find her strength again by some miracle, walking away from him and venturing toward the open glass doors leading to the balcony overlooking the ocean.

"Would you like Ms. Ryan's…_welcome gift_…now, or would you two like to settle in for a while first?" Luvisutto asked quietly.

"Give us a few minutes, I think." Doyle said distractedly as he watched Cordelia wandering out onto the balcony.

"Just press 1 on any of the phones for a direct line to me, I'll be available for any assistance you need, no matter the hour." Luvisutto assured him, smiling and bowing his head as several bills were pressed into his palm. "Thank you, sir. Again, welcome to the Don CeSar." He said happily as he returned to the elevator and left the new guests to their privacy.

"I'm sorry," Doyle began as he walked out onto the balcony and grabbed a few grapes from the fruit waiting on the table, popping them into his mouth as he approached her. He leaned on the stone railing beside her and looked out across the moonlit sea, "You were talking down there in the car and we got interrupted." He said, smiling when she looked back at him as if she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Umm…Doyle? How…?" She tried, motioning around them in confusion.

"Ah…right, _that_." He said with a nod, turning and leaning his back against the railing. "Well Wolfram & Hart gave me access to a computer in their building during those weeks while I was waiting for the happy news…" He arched a brow and smirked, "did ya know your boy had a great deal of knowledge in his head by way of hacking and embezzlement? Never used it, of course, since that would be '_wrong'_ but it was all there, just waiting to be used – everything from the 'how's of the actual taking to transferring the money through banks in remote countries to make it untraceable. And creating false identities, too; he was a great deal smarter than I think he let on." Doyle, or Evil Doyle rather, explained. "It's amazing the things you can accomplish when you're not restricted by matters of conscience."

Cordelia stared at him slack-jawed for a second. "Wait, wait, _wait_ just a damned minute! You're telling me that Doyle…as in _my Doyle_ knew how to do all this? And he was living in that hell-hole apartment, struggling to afford enough to get him drunk and ducking demons that were ready to kill him over a few thousand dollars?" She asked in amazement.

"'Fraid so, princess; was trying to do 'right' or some such nonsense. You'd not _believe_ the things in this mind…" He said with an impressed laugh.

Cordelia frowned at that and stared out at the ocean, her eyes darkening with the tinges of sadness. _He was right, she wouldn't believe it, not like her and Doyle had ever really gotten the chance to let one another in before he'd went and made himself a hero on her…they'd meant to, though. They'd been so close to it and then_…

Doyle noted the difference in her posture and narrowed his eyes on her. "What's wrong?" He asked, tilting his head to the side and studying the sudden change in her expression.

"It's just…don't tell me anything else about what's in his mind, okay?" She said weakly, hugging herself against the night breeze, suddenly not finding the view to be so fantastic. She'd much rather be standing with _her_ Doyle in his hideously furnished shoebox apartment. "It's not right." She whispered and he saw the lights reflecting in her tear-filled eyes.

He watched her curiously. "You really miss him, yeah?" He asked with honest interest.

Cordelia sniffled and nodded, discretely wiping the few tears that had managed to fall from her cheeks.

He was still staring at her, finding these shifts in her to be fascinating. "Alright, love – alright." He said soothingly, running a hand over her back. "But before we start that new rule I _am_ gonna tell ya I can't take credit for this whole vacation itinerary – he'd already thought all of it up as a '_if I ever have the money_' scenario for you." She turned and looked at him in surprise and he nodded. "It's true, the resort, the suite, the view, the ring, everything – funny really, he could have afforded cars and houses and more with how much it all cost but this plan was definitely on the to-do list before any of tha."

"Why?" She whispered so faintly it was almost lost in the sounds of the waves breaking below.

He stared at her in confusion for a second before attempting to answer. "Well I'd imagine it was due to him caring more about your happiness than…" He tried but she shook her head and cut him off.

"No, not that…I mean…getting back to what I was asking in the car – why are you doing all of this? Why are you being nice to me? I'm guessing you have your own reasons for wanting me to have these babies…which I really, _really_ don't want to take into consideration right now…and that whatever it is you have planned would be the reason you're willing to fight Wolfram & Hart to keep them, but why are you _treating_ me like this?" She asked, staring into those eyes and trying to see beyond the familiar blue, to speak to what was inside and not to the face of the man she'd never gotten enough time with.

He sighed and took her hand in his, leading her over to a couch on the balcony and motioning for her to sit beside him. She did so hesitantly, unsure of the look in his eyes or the way he had that same thoughtful expression that Doyle always got when he was trying to find the right words to say.

"Would you really rather I was slapping you around, roughing you up?" He asked quietly, _seriously_, all joking aside as he studied her eyes. Disturbingly he was asking her for instruction on what path to take. It gave her chills to see that he was waiting for her response, his body tense as if all it would take would be a single nod from her and he'd willingly fly off the handle.

"I'm…_no_…" She whispered, shaking her head firmly and looking down at the way he was holding her hand in his. "It's just making this really confusing. You're _not_ Doyle…but you're treating me like you are and I don't understand."

He stared at her for a moment, thoughts racing in his mind, baffling as they had been since the first mention of her being harmed. "I'm in love with you, Cordelia." He said and gave a smile as right on cue she pulled her hand away and turned to look him in the eyes.

"_No_…" She said with a bitter laugh as her eyes welled up. "_**You**_ aren't, _**Doyle**_ was." She insisted in a weak voice. "_You_ can't love anyone."

He leaned back against the arm of the couch, crossing his hands over his chest and studying her. "You know what I am, right? Tell me."

"Evil." She said quickly as if that was all the explanation needed.

"And what might that be, exactly? Evil…all by itself…not an evil _person_ or an evil _being_, just tell me what evil is." He instructed.

Cordelia opened her mouth as if that would be no trouble at all, but then frowned when she realized she didn't know – couldn't find a definition in her mind that didn't involve a person or event to give as an example.

"Do you want me to explain it to you?" He asked softly, the way he was speaking to her in such a patient manner tugged at her heartstrings and she nodded. "You're thinking of beings and people you've known in your life and their actions because that's the only type of evil that's meant to exist…and they're each so different, yeah? Each is its own type and degree; you need to find the common traits, what it is that makes your soul instinctively look at someone and their actions and say 'evil' when you're in their presence."

He reached over to the table behind them, grabbing the bowl of fruit and setting it on the ground between them, offering her a strawberry before taking one for himself.

"If I were to define it, just boil it all down to its simplest explanation it would be this: evil is the self-serving motivation to fulfill ones own desires with no regard to anything that stands between them and their goal." He waited for the questions to start but surprisingly she seemed to have taken it all in on his first attempt. "Makes sense?" He asked.

"Yeah…" She breathed, giving him an impressed nod. "It actually does."

He smiled and took a bite of the strawberry, happy with his host's teaching abilities. "So by understanding that, keeping in mind that evil is simply the _motivation_ and not the _desire_ itself it becomes clearer. You define the degree of evil by what exactly the individual is willing to do to get what they want, how many people they'd hurt or kill in the pursuit, therefore how strong that _motivation_ is would translate into how strong the evil must be. Evil changes depending on the desires of the individual, whether they crave murder or rape, money or the eradication of an entire religious sect – it's all evil, all of it, but it is shaped to fit the desires of the host." He tilted his head to the side and smiled at her. "Make me seem a bit less intimidating?"

Cordelia arched a skeptical brow. "I don't think I'd go that far."

"Fair enough." He laughed. "So Wolfram & Hart brought me, the _motivation_ into this world and gave me my own consciousness. I was given this body to control and for the first time I was able to experience things for myself – but again, I'm _not_ the desire. For a while I was trying out for myself what I'd been used for in the past by so many, learning the rush of taking a life, the pleasure of hearing an agonized scream or plea for mercy…"

Cordelia started inching away from him and he sighed.

"But it was all empty, pointless; I came to find you because that was what I was told my purpose was supposed to be in this world – but that's when things really started getting confusing. It had been simpler before then, I reacted to the thoughts of those around me – used their desires to gauge what my own should be. Do you remember when…?" He trailed off, recalling her earlier statement. "You said you can't forget what I did to you, so yeah…you do…well I wanted to get pleasure from your pain and I did, I know that's not what you want to hear but it was still a rush…"

Cordelia glared over at him in disbelief. "_Wow_, way to win me over." She said in stifled outrage.

"Hey, this isn't sugar coated, princess – I'm telling you the truth here. I thought the pleasure I got was stemming from the fact that it was unwanted or that you were fighting me off…but I found out something strange in the hollow feelings I got afterward. This body – these memories – they're still _Doyle_." He said and watched her look over at him worriedly. "His soul is gone but this is still him, you see Wolfram & Hart made a mistake – a _big_ mistake. They marked me to prevent me from experiencing feelings of guilt or remorse…but the memories – _Doyle's_ memories – were left in tact for use against you and Angel. And it was there that I found exactly what I was lacking…_desire_."

Cordelia stared at him in surprise, starting to see what he was saying.

He sat up quickly, excited to explain to her the epiphany that had come to him. "See it wasn't when I was hurting you that I felt the greatest pleasure, it was when you were touching me because you _wanted_ to. When it was over and the love was gone from your eyes, when you were looking at me with such hatred things started getting hazy, I started planning ways to keep you with me long enough to make you love me again, I grew restless at the prospect of never reaching that goal, _desperate_ even. And then you stood between me and Angel, ready to fight for me – you looked at me and told me you loved me even after you knew there was evil inside, that I wasn't the same Doyle you knew before and I _felt_ it, something deep inside of this body reacting to you. I didn't understand it, tried to ignore it for a while…but when they told me that they were planning to kill you…to take the babies away from us both…something inside just _snapped_. I remembered your willingness to fight for me…and that feeling in my gut came back to make it all clear. I_ love _you, and it's not the same as it was between the two of you but it's there, never left this body, just waited for me to discover it. In my hands the love is selfish, true enough; I want to make you smile because it makes _me_ feel good. Doyle wanted you to smile because he wanted _you_ to be happy. See? Different – but it's made things clear since I found it. It's _you_, Cordelia – _you're_ the desire in this body. I found the purpose I was seeking. _You're_ what the motivation is for, what _I'm_ to be used for in Doyle. It's self-serving for me to kill if by doing so I keep you safe, to steal if it will make you happy, to fight to protect the children inside of you because they are _ours_ – the desire for you is what shapes me…and as for how powerful that motivation is, what I'd do to accomplish those goals? There is and never will be purer or stronger evil in this world."

"Whoa…" She breathed, staring at him in shock for a moment before finally continuing. "Doyle was _never_ this long-winded…you're giving me a headache; you do know that, right?" She asked and he laughed.

"Yes, _but_…" He said, watching her slowly and unsteadily reach out and take his hand.

"But you're also making a lot of sense." She confessed hesitantly and tried not to pull away or shake in fear when he leaned forward and kissed her gently.

He ran his hand through her hair, staring into her eyes deeply. "You asked me why I'm treating you like Doyle did, it's because despite the law firm's belief to the contrary I'm not _capable_ of existing without an individual to shape me. I _need_ him, maybe even as desperately as you do; if I'm here in this world I'm not just evil, I'm _Doyle's_ evil, and I'm doing the best I can with what little I have of him, using his mind to try and figure out what I'm supposed to do."

She wasn't sure why she was crying again or why she wasn't trying to hide the tears that were falling down her cheeks. Maybe it was hearing him acknowledge that he needed Doyle which gave her a sense of hope. He almost sounded like he was grieving the soul that wasn't there to guide him.

He took a deep breath and caressed her cheek with his hand. "Princess, while I can't say I'm sorry for what I did to you because it would be a lie, I'm not able to feel remorse for it, I _can_ tell you I've spent a great deal of time listening to the thoughts in this head trying to understand the concept of the regret I should be experiencing. I suppose I'm lucky, if you want to learn guilt the best place is in the mind of a man raised Irish Catholic…"

Cordelia tried not to laugh but Doyle had made so many jokes about his upbringing that she couldn't help it. He'd told her his church engrained the belief that: _'the best way to know if you're doing something sinful is to ask yourself whether it feels good – if it does you're going straight to hell for it'_.

"Well that's something." She said with a smile. "At least you're _trying_ to feel it." Despite herself she leaned forward, stretching out in front of him on the couch and letting him draw her up against his chest. "Doyle?" She began, not knowing what else to call him.

"Yes, love?" He said softly as he studied her long, slender fingers, running his thumb across the back of her impossibly soft hand and marveling yet again at how such simple things could cause so much pleasure in this mind and body.

"Are they really going to try and kill me and take the babies?" She whispered, her voice sounding small and fearful as she stared up at the stars.

His brow creased as her words cut him. Okay, so the feeling that question invoked was definitely _not_ pleasure; it made him have to fight to keep the energy inside of him harnessed. It surprised him how difficult it was to speak suddenly, his voice sounding strained. "They'll try, princess. They won't come anywhere near succeeding though. Not with me and Angel – " He trailed off, again feeling that strange sensation when it came to the vampire.

Cordelia looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. "What's wrong?" She asked.

"It's just…there's this feeling in the pit of my stomach when I talk about…" He tried but words failed him again.

"You love Angel, too." She said with a grin.

"_What_?" He asked in panicked confusion, wracking the thoughts in this mind in search of any hint of homosexual tendencies he might have missed.

Cordelia laughed. "It's okay – he's your _best friend_, he cares about you and would fight to protect you, just like I would. You two would of course never _say_ that you love each other, not with that whole macho male thing, but you both do. When you talk to him how does it make you feel?" She asked, resting her chin on his chest and watching him think it through.

"I don't know…_strange_…it's not unpleasant. It feels like he understands things, like I don't need to say much and he gets it, ya know?" He explained. "And when he _does_ understand it feels…_good_…like…"

"Like you have a friend who knows what you're going through?" She offered. "Caring about Angel is part of Doyle, too."

"Tossing him around like that felt good at first because he'd been touching you, then it just _didn't_ anymore. The pleasure went away." He said, looking down and finding her studying the confusion in his face.

"That's when you would have felt the guilt you were talking about – you didn't feel '_good'_ anymore because you were hurting your friend." She told him and realized she was kind of enjoying this, explaining emotions so simply to him, helping him understand what he had never experienced before.

He let out a little '_huh'_ noise as he let her words sink in. _So he really cared for this Angel guy…what a revolting development._

"But it felt good the _whole time_ I was hurting Wesley." He said with a grin.

Cordelia smirked. "And it would probably be best if you didn't tell him that…like _ever_." She sighed and nuzzled closer to him. "God…I still can't believe I'm pregnant…" She whispered, biting her bottom lip and looking at him worriedly. "Do you think the babies will be evil since you are?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Can't say for sure, I'd imagine it's possible…though I doubt they will be. I may have been the one pulling the trigger but it's not my personal ammunition, darling." He said with a grin. "I will tell you this much, evil or no, between the two lookers that made'em they're sure to turn heads."

She grinned for a second until a thought occurred to her. "Do you think they'll get prickly-face?" She asked, her jaw dropping and eyes going wide in horror. "Do you think they'll get prickly face from the stress while I'm in _labor_? Oh my God that would suck." She whined.

"I doubt that's a risk, princess." He laughed. "Doyle's only half and they're just a quarter, it didn't present in this body till he was 21 so you should be safe from having to deliver shish-ka-babies." She arched a brow at that visual and he winked at her. "Come on, I know what'll distract ya from all this worryin about barbed-faced bundles of joy." He teased and she rolled her eyes as he stood and took her hand, leading her back into the suite and walking over to the phone. "Did ya get to look around?" He asked in an effort to remind her she hadn't and with that she was off, exploring the place at lightening speed while he made the call.

"Luvisutto, yeah – we're ready for her welcome gift now." He said. Cordelia popped out from one of the doorways at that point squealing that she'd found a swimming pool before continuing her exploration and he laughed.

"Uh-huh, and a bottle of the best scotch you can get your hands on at this hour." He said; shaking his head as she went scurrying by at the far end of the suite yelling something about there being a study and a '_yoga room_', whatever the hell they'd need that for. Sounded to him like a way to fill up more space than a person could possibly use which, he thought with a smirk, was probably why Cordelia, the princess of excess, loved the idea so much.

"Right…well I'm pleased to hear that – she might get a midnight craving for some chocolate concoction but I'd be looking for something much harder, personally." He turned and tried not to laugh as Cordelia raced past him, apparently she'd kicked off her heels to make her pace easier to maintain.

"_Really?_ Nooo…_Macallan_? 35 years? You've just made me a very happy man." Okay, excess in the form of a $7,000.00 bottle of whisky was not wasteful in his eyes.

"What's that?" He asked, pressing a hand to his ear and arching a brow hearing Cordelia ransacking the kitchen. "Yeah, why not – have'em bring it all up, she's had a long day. Uh huh…see you in a minute." He said, hanging up and heading in the direction of the ruckus. "Princess?" He called, a smirk on his face finding every cabinet open.

She popped up from behind the island and he laughed seeing her hands full of the snacks she'd procured. "What's my name?" She asked as she hopped up onto the counter.

He looked at her in confusion for a minute. "But I thought you _liked_ 'princess'." He said in a tone bearing uncanny resemblance to a whine and she laughed.

"I _do_ – I'm asking what '_Ms. Ryan's_' first name is." She said, opening a box of chocolate teddy grahams as if there was gold hidden inside or something.

"I don't know…never told them our first names when I called in the reservations so I guess it's up to you." He told her, listening to the sounds of the elevator approaching their floor. "Oh this is gonna be good." He said, his grin telling her he was up to something.

When the spa staff entered the suite asking where to set up their table, armed to the teeth with dozens of pink roses for what they called the 'Pampered like a Princess' package Cordelia hugged him so tightly he worried she might break something. Good thing for those accelerated healing abilities.

She named them both in the stream of squeals that fell from her lips as she clapped and bounced in place. Selia and Shaughn – he couldn't help but smirk. She had the staff set up just inside the balcony doors so she could still see the ocean while receiving her massage and beauty treatments.

Doyle took a seat close by, inclining his head to Luvisutto as he ducked out of the suite – the man leaving at his request that only women be present for Cordelia's, sorry – _Selia's _pampering session. He drank a toast to the missing soul of his host, telling him he wished he could taste the whisky his body was downing.

An hour later during a thoroughly relaxed princess's sugar cane body scrub he found himself staring out at the moon and wondering, _God help him_, where _Angel_ was in that moment.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

The Don CeSar is an _actual_ resort – though it is located in St. Petersburg, FL – not CA. I've been there and found myself, like F. Scott Fitzgerald was, completely captivated by the place. It has been referred to as 'the pink palace' for its color and architecture since its creation by Irish immigrant Thomas Rowe in honor of the woman he loved back in the 1920s. If you'd like visuals do a Google image search for 'Don CeSar Resort', the place is stunning and has a great history to it.

* * *

**Fun Fact #1:**  
The main archway to the hotel lobby entrance offers the following welcome,  
"_Come all ye who seek health and rest, for here they are abundant_".  
I figured that would provide Angel with an invitation ;)

* * *

**Fun Fact #2  
(and the reason for my inclusion of this resort in this story):**

The Don CeSar was created by an _Irish immigrant_ _to America_ who became hopelessly enraptured with a _beauty with long, dark hair and dark eyes hailing from a wealthy family_. He was unable to win her hand and _death separated the two_ – it never, however, ended his love and devotion to her. (Are we seeing any similarities here? LOL)

* * *

**If you're interested, here is a brief history of the resort, exerts are from 'Florida's Ghostly Legends and Haunted Folklore'  
by Greg Jenkins and 'Ghosts in the Pink Palace' by Tom Williams of the Naples News:**

"_Thomas Rowe, real estate mogul and builder, and Spanish opera singer Lucinda were players in a sad but captivating storybook romance. Most likely one of Florida's most cherished love stories, the legend of Thomas Rowe and Lucinda is as timeless as Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Indeed, Florida serves as the backdrop to one of the most tragically beautiful love stories known. The Don CeSar Resort was based on a dream that Rowe had while he was studying in Europe and enjoying an opera that revolved around a dashing hero named Don CeSar. As history tells us, while Thomas was enjoying William Vincent Wallace's opera Maritana, he fell in love with a beautiful Spanish diva named Lucinda. She was cast in the opera's lead role and became the subject of Thomas' love the moment he saw her."_

* * *

**Fun Fact #3:**  
The opera Maritana tells the tale of a _raven-haired gypsy_ and _her_ _disheveled knight_. *arches brow*  
She is the subject of many a man's desire, including the King of Spain who is bewitched by her and throws a gold coin to her when he hears her sing…  
but wealth is not enough to earn her love and it is the poor Don CeSar who wins her heart. (Familiar much?)

* * *

"_From a shared love at first sight, Thomas Rowe and the sultry Lucinda were enamored. As their spirits rose, and their private romance bloomed, the two would-be lovers kept a watchful eye toward Lucinda's strict and unwavering parents. Lucinda was highborn, a member of the Spanish aristocracy, and her parent's plans had nothing to do with a lowly American who was only abroad for an English education. Thomas Rowe it seemed would never be allowed to capture the heart of the rare Spanish beauty. Unbeknownst to Lucinda's unwavering and opinionated parents, Thomas and Lucinda began a series of clandestine rendezvous. Whenever the London weather permitted and the Spanish parents were occupied, Thomas and Lucinda would meet under the moonlight at a closed courtyard with a beautiful fountain. As the bubbling water in the fountain rose, splashed, and coursed down the stones, Thomas and Lucinda fell in love. The overwhelmed young couple began their own version of the stylish opera, and called each other after the heroine and the hero of the Maritana. From the first moments at the fountain, Lucinda was 'Maritana' and Thomas Rowe was 'Don CeSar.' With every whispered breath, and every written love note, the en-vogue London opera became real, as Lucinda's 'Maritana' and Thomas Rowe's 'Don CeSar' acted upon the stage of life in their private cobbled court with the moonlit fountain. As the secret couple became even closer, and as the opera's last night drew near, Thomas and Lucinda made plans to meet after the final performance at the hidden courtyard. Consumed with their feelings toward one another, the two lovers arranged for a driver and a coach and were planning an escape from London. At Southampton, and the gateway to the Atlantic, the young couple had planned to marry and book a passage on the next ship to America._

_When the final night of the performance arrived, Lucinda sent a letter to confirm the plan and the rendezvous, but when the last notes of the opera fell silent, Lucinda's parents were waiting in the wings and swept their daughter immediately back to Spain and into isolation. Some of the love letters the young couple exchanged had been intercepted by servants and with news of an elopement the overbearing elders acted upon impulse. The honor and virtue of a lady of Spain would be protected and the common American would return to the wilds of the former English colonies alone._

_When the opera fell silent and Lucinda did not appear, Thomas Rowe waited by the fountain until the sunrise found him hopeless and heartbroken. After uncountable attempts to contact Lucinda, Thomas was rewarded only with years of returned and unopened letters. His life was never the same and although after his return to America and his achievements in business became legendary, he knew his life could never be complete without his beloved Lucinda._

_With the passing of years a letter with an English postmark arrived and Thomas Rowe was once again heartbroken. Inside the envelope was a newspaper clipping announcing Lucinda's death. There was also a note addressed to: 'My beloved Don CeSar.' The note begged Thomas to forgive the Spanish parents and promised a continuing and undying love._

'_We found each other before,' Lucinda wrote, 'and we shall do so again. This life is intermediate. I leave it without regret and travel to a place where the swing of the pendulum does not bring pain. Time is infinite. I will wait for you by our fountain ... to share our timeless love, our destiny is time. Forever, Maritana'."_

"_He would never forget his Lucinda; fueling the fires of his passions through all his days…He went on with life, got married, divorced and eventually built a real estate empire. When he found St. Petersburg he had a vision once again. It was while he was standing in the sand with the warm waters rushing over his feet that the memories of Lucinda and the opera he had seen years earlier passed through his mind. He recalled the story of the Spanish pirate, Don Cesar, and how he pined for his beloved, the sacrifice he would make for her, and finally, the happy ending that had always motivated him…"_

The resort was built in Lucinda'shonor, a place designed for them to one day reunite and for all to come and marvel at its beauty. In 1940 Thomas Rowe collapsed in the lobby of the Don CeSar and died in his room a short time later.

"It should not be too much of a surprise to find out that the Don CeSar is haunted. After all, this hotel was built out of a dream, made with the passion of love lost, how could it not attract ghosts? Employees and guests alike have witnessed Thomas surveying the goings on in the hotel. In the hotel's lobby for instance, there stands a beautiful and accurate replica of the wishing fountain where Thomas and Lucinda would meet for their romantic interludes while in Europe. Many of the employees claim to see the two lovers walking together and holding hands from time to time, then simply fading into a mist, then to nothingness."

* * *

Sorry for the derailment – just wanted to share the reason why this place was so significant in my mind for Doyle and Cordelia. Oh, and while I was there I didn't see any magic or demons or vampires ;) just so we're clear for the creative license I take with the hotel in coming chapters. LOL

**To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

"_Do you think they're…?" _Wesley began to whisper, only to be cut off by a harsh '_quiet!_' from Angel.

Silence had settled over the apartment a minute earlier when Angel had sensed the presence of several men outside the door. The anticipation was killing Wesley but he had to admit to himself that he wasn't looking forward to a fight – even when he wasn't recovering from a violent run-in with a pipe he ended up getting knocked unconscious more often than not. His chest was still throbbing pretty severely since he'd been held in place by Doyle's power and he said a silent prayer that there wouldn't be too many men for Angel to put down alone.

* * *

Nearly a two hour drive away Doyle was pacing the suite, barely hearing the voice of Cordelia thanking the masseuse and other members of the spa staff as they gathered their things. She'd come over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, an action that had made his entire body tremble for a second, then reached into his pocket and took his wallet to get a tip for them. He stared out at the ocean, holding the glass of whisky that should have been more than adequate to numb the confusion in his head while Cordelia walked them to the elevator, raving to them the entire time about how much she'd enjoyed the pampering.

_See? She'd enjoyed it. Why was his mind not focusing on that?_ He scowled as his jaw flexed of its own accord. _Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe he didn't love her_…

Nope, couldn't get himself to buy that one – his cheek was still buzzing from a kiss nearly five minutes after she'd given it.

_Then what? What the hell was wrong? It couldn't be the fight he could sense all those miles away, right?_

"Wow, that's a pretty good imitation of Angel's brood face." Cordelia said with a laugh as she walked up beside him and hugged him. "Thanks for putting all that together, Doyle really made a hit with that one. I haven't been spoiled so much in years and _why_ are you still brooding?" She asked when she pulled away and found his face still tense and troubled. "What's wrong?" She said softly, running her hand through his hair and gazing up at him worriedly.

He looked down at her hearing the change in her tone and arched a brow. _Oh great, now she was going to worry because __**he**__ was worrying? So did that mean he needed to fix his problem to make __**her**__ feel better so __**he**__ could feel better that he'd stopped her from needing to worry? _

_This human stuff was bullshit._

"Hey…you can tell me." She said, those chocolate brown eyes drawing him in.

"I…I don't_ know_…" He muttered. "It's confusing. All of this is. Why does this all have to be so _confusing_?" He asked in frustration and watched her continue to stare up at him. He sighed and shrugged, looking out at the moon again as his jaw continued to flex. "It's Angel, he's at your place and he's about to get into a fight he isn't ready for…and that _pain in the ass_ Brit is there with him like he'll be any good other than distracting someone for all of the _three seconds_ it'll take to kill him…I don't know if it makes it better or worse that he realizes that much…and I don't know why _any of this_ is bothering me."

Cordelia's eyes widened. "They have to get out of there! We have to warn them!" She said, turning to go grab her cell phone but he caught her wrist.

"Not enough time. They've got the place surrounded already. Neither of them are gonna make it out alive." He said, shaking his head.

"How do you know all of this?" She asked, looking up at him in confusion.

"Energy, it's what I am outside this body…it's how I do what you've seen me do. Lets me check around even when I'm still standing here." He explained, his face twisting as the anxiousness in his stomach grew worse. "It's getting downright _painful_…is that even possible? I don't know what's wrong with me." He said frantically.

"You're worried about Angel, damn it! And, _news flash_, I am, too! What can we do to help him?" She asked.

"Is _tha_ what this is? I didn't think I could…why would I…? I mean yeah, ya said I cared and all tha but…" He winced as his heart continued pounding in his chest. "Holy hell, it's fear, isn't it? This is _fear_?"

"Fear that your friend is going to _die_? _Yeah!_" She said, waving her hands and jumping up and down in front of him. "So how can we _help_?" She asked again.

"I can stop it from happening; will that make this feeling go away?" He asked.

Cordelia's mouth formed a tight line as she stopped bouncing; staring at him and wondering if he'd be offended if she slapped him upside the forehead for being so dense. "GO!" She screamed.

He nodded quickly, still looking utterly confused as he sat on the couch and pulled her down beside him, holding her hand. "I'm connected to this body, stay next to me, yeah? If you need me I'll be right back."

She watched in disbelief as his eyes went completely to that swirling blackness, energy rushing from him and out the balcony in an instant. The body that clutched her hand was just that, a body. It was like suddenly holding the hand of someone in a vegetative state. It was disturbing to say the least but she refused to let go. She closed her eyes and begged him to get there in time.

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**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Regular militant types?  
_Piece of cake._

Vamps?  
_No problem, the more the merrier._

Demons?  
_Hey, Angel never minded a good work out._

Snarling, snapping demons imported from hell dimensions with the single mission of killing him?  
_*flips page, scans line up*  
*flips several more pages*  
No…sorry, he hadn't seen those anywhere on the schedule_…

Said demons didn't seem to understand that they weren't penciled in, however, and proceeded to use him as a wrecking ball throughout the interior of Cordelia's apartment.

Angel was kind of glad Wesley had been knocked out early on – if he'd tried to fight one of these things he would be inside their stomachs by now. Not that he was fairing much better, mind you, but at least he wasn't struggling to keep track of Wesley's location during his own brutal beating. It made it difficult to fight when you couldn't stand up before the next blow came. One of the demons grabbed him, lifting him over its head and preparing to give its best effort to swallow him in one piece. He was just starting to wonder about what the 'great, glowing beyond' Doyle had mentioned was going to be like when something strange happened.

He heard what sounded like a sonic boom impacting the air, felt the creature that was holding him jolt violently then go still….and then it fell to the floor in two pieces, leaving Angel to fall with the section from its chest up. He shook his head and struggled to get to his feet, looking around the apartment in shock as all of the remaining demons which were standing completely still came apart in a similar manner.

The silence was nearly deafening as he waited, listening for any hint that another attack was coming. Finally he limped over to where Wesley was lying unconscious in the corner, shaking his arm lightly and waiting for him to look up at him.

"Hey, you alright?" He whispered, watching Wesley give him a look that clearly asked if he was insane. Angel smirked. "Well we need to get out of here, something really weird just happened and…" He froze seeing the look of horror that suddenly came to Wesley's face as he stared at something over his shoulder. Talk about _not_ instilling confidence in someone to turn around. Angel sniffed, catching no scent which was usually a bad sign and slowly turned to look behind him.

There, watching them with interest was the outline of a man made up completely of swirling black energy.

Angel stared in disbelief, sensing the familiar crackling in the air as he started toward it. Wesley grabbed his ankle, stopping him as he tried to take a step and he looked down at him in surprise. "Don't go near it! You've no idea what it is! What it may be capable of!" Wesley whispered and Angel shook his head.

"I know _exactly_ what it is. Wesley, _this_ is the evil they put inside Doyle's body." Angel said as he motioned to the energy as if making the introductions and watched the apparition incline its head to Wesley.

"Oh…it's…very nice to meet you." Wesley managed with a slightly terrified smile.

"And it's apparently _capable of_ cutting down entire rooms filled with demons if given a reason." Angel's brows drew together in confusion at his own statement. "Wait, what were your reasons?" He asked.

His eyes widened in surprise as the being, unable to speak a response in its current state held a hand to its ear, miming talking on the phone before abandoning the humanoid visage, falling to a shapeless mass and rushing out the door as quickly as it had came.

Angel stared out the door, looking around the apartment full of dead demons for a few seconds before his cell phone started ringing.

"_No_…you don't think…?" Wesley asked in disbelief as Angel answered the call.

"You've got a real penchant for getting yourself knocked around, d'ya know tha?" Doyle said and Angel briefly looked down at the phone in shock.

"Is he okay? What happened? Did it work?" He heard Cordelia asking frantically in the background.

"Yeah, princess; he's fine." Doyle assured her.

"Really? Are you sure? You _just_ left, how is that even _possible_?" She asked, continuing on a long rant of questions as Doyle pressed the phone back to his ear.

"Hey listen…I was thinking…" Doyle began, sighing and pressing his hand to his forehead as the rush of that unpleasant first experience of 'fear' left him; and damn it, _why_ was he thinking? "Would probably save me time if you were close by like, yeah? That way if you intend to get yourself swallowed up by another demon I won't have to travel quite so far to save your ass."

Cordelia was standing behind the couch running her hand over his back, not massaging, not doing anything other than running it in circles through his shirt, showing him that she was there. He wondered if she knew how much that helped, decided to point it out to her after he hung up. So many simple things helped these bodies, it was amazing to him.

Angel struggled to get his mouth to close, finally managing "umm…yeah, yeah sure…where are you?"

Doyle pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "In that place I told you that one time I wanted to bring Cordy and give her a ring that'd weigh her hand down. And careful on your way, they're not playing around…they're watching you pretty heavy now. Ya can't take your car or Wesley's bike, either. I'll handle the electronic and supernatural tails they've got on you, just keep sharp because they've got a lot of eyes on you out there. Can ya handle tha?" He asked, though he didn't wait for a response. "She's safe now, keep in mind anyone you let follow you or any mistakes you let Wesley make will put her right back in danger."

Angel swallowed hard. "No one will be able to follow us, you have my word."

"Alright then, when ya get here ask for the name of the guy with the hat we were joking about from that show – got it?" He asked, still pinching the bridge of his nose from hurriedly scanning memories of every conversation Angel and his host had together in search of references no one else could understand.

"Got it. We'll see you in a while." Angel said, hanging up and turning to Wesley.

Wesley stood in silence for a moment, blinking repeatedly before finally demanding, "We'll _what_?"

* * *

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	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

Doyle tossed the phone onto the table and leaned back on the couch feeling like hell. He didn't _get_ tired, he didn't _need_ sleep; energy such as evil is in constant supply – the dark desires of the entire human race kept him replenished as their balance. This body, however, seemed capable of being driven to exhaustion when presented with fear for the safety of its…_friends_. He decided this was a prime example of why having them was a bad idea.

With a sigh he opened his eyes when he felt Cordelia sit beside him on the edge of the couch and take his hand in hers, entwining their fingers. "Ya know it's the little touches like this that make having a body worth all the aggravation that seems to come with the territory." He mused as he looked at her hand; he found her grinning down at him and arched a brow, smirking at her. "What's _tha_ look for?" He asked.

"I'm proud of you." She said, leaning down and kissing his cheek.

How had that little, tiny sentence paired with that simple act of affection made him ready to worry about Angel all over again just to earn a repeat of her praise? "Why?" He asked with interest, tilting his head to the side.

"Because for someone who's never experienced emotion before I'd say you handled that situation nicely…well, aside from not telling me until like, the _last_ possible second…which I'll excuse you for since, ya know, I was getting a treatment and I'm sure you didn't want to interrupt…though next time I gotta tell you, life and death situations _do_ merit an interruption…" She rambled before catching herself and getting back on track. "But you did the right thing – you listened to what was going on inside and saved their lives." She told him as she ran a hand across his forehead.

"And hey, I even introduced myself to Wesley." He said with an exhausted smile, wanting to make sure he got credit for it. "This time without even inflicting any harm on him."

"Thank you." Cordelia laughed. "Are you alright? You look kinda tired." She said softly and he sighed.

"I didn't think I _could be_ but I am." He told her quietly.

"Well, there's a bed in there the size of my living room – come on, you can get some sleep before Angel and Wesley get here." She stood and took his hand in hers, tugging his arm and urging him to stand and walk to the bedroom. "It's a shame." She said to herself as they entered. "We get this huge place to ourselves for like a few _hours_ before we have to share it." She whined.

He smirked at her as he kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Had something else planned for this bed, did ya princess?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Not with _you_, Dr. Evil…with _Doyle_, maybe…" She smiled to herself and added, "Alright, a lot more than maybe…"

"I'm sorry – you lost me when you said somethin about playing doctor." He teased and laughed at her scowl. "Alright, fine – have it your way then." He said and continued undressing, ignoring the way she was watching him – _likely cataloging the value of each article of clothing_, he thought with a smirk.

Cordelia was actually taking this as her first opportunity to see the body of the man she loved; in the soft light she was seeing far more of him than she'd ever been able to before. There was only so much you could distinguish in the darkened interior of a warehouse when you were pretty much wrapped around the other person. She took note as he removed his shirt of a platinum Celtic cross hanging around his neck and smiled, while it was definitely a more expensive version it was the same style as the one she'd seen Doyle wear so many times. Of course she'd never seen it hanging against his bare chest before… and since _when_ was she a fan of chest hair? How had he done _that_ to her? She shook her head and leaned against the doorway watching him toss his pants over the back of a chair. So his fashion sense had improved, his care for the clothing was still the same apparently. She sighed to herself at the overwhelming urge to go to him, seeing tattoos (of the non spell variety) on his upper arms that she'd never known about.

Leaving his boxers on he crawled onto the bed and sprawled out on his stomach, moaning loudly and emphatically into the covers that it couldn't _possibly_ feel so good just to be in a reclined position.

Cordelia laughed, giving in and walking around to the side of the bed, hesitantly climbing up along side of him. He turned to face her, still sprawled with his arms stretched out doing his best to cover the massive mattress and smiled at her with half his face pressed into the comforter. She smiled back and shook her head, reaching over and touching the tattooed harp on his arm, wondering what it meant and wishing he was here to ask about it.

He rolled over onto his side and moved closer so he could look into her eyes, propping his head up in his hand and studying her face. "Ya know I'd tell ya where he got that and why, were it not for your rule about not divulging his memories to ya."

Cordelia forced a smile and shook her head. "It's not your place to…and…it's okay, I'm happy to be able to wonder about him." She whispered weakly and watched him nod in understanding. She reached out and lifted the cross from where it was resting on the mattress, smiling down at it and remembering her wardrobe-challenged Doyle and his weatherworn version of this necklace. With a sigh she let it slide back down the length of its chain to the bed and traced her fingers over the marks on his chest, namely the one at its center which was preventing her from having the man she loved.

"D'ya think we could really get him back, princess?" He asked quietly and watched her mouth twitch.

Cordelia looked at him and realized why he was asking, his little intuition thing must be routing around in her head in search of what was causing the sadness in her eyes. Now that she was aware of the ability she wondered why he hadn't called her out on her whole 'magical tattoo removal' plan before…and since he knew about it, why hadn't he tried to prevent it? With a sigh she continued tracing her fingers across his chest, no – not his chest, _Doyle's_ chest.

"Do _you_ want him back?" She finally asked.

His features tensed thoughtfully for a second as he tried to find the right words. "Well I can't say I'm enjoying experiencing the downsides of humanity…I'm not supposed to be a part of all tha, ya know? Fear and sadness and worry, they're not really my line. He's supposed to take care of that nonsense on his own; I'm just supposed to be there to nag him to take action his morality doesn't agree with." He smiled and ran a hand over her bare arm. "Though I can't deny there are _some_ upsides to not having to share the sensations of this body." He licked his lips at the feeling of her soft skin under his fingertips.

Cordelia watched him intently as he enjoyed the contact, waiting for him to look at her face and wince at what he found missing in her expression before he continued.

"But if having him back means I can be a part of him when you get that look in your eyes again…ya know, the one you had the first time we…" He trailed off as he recalled it and sighed. "Then yeah, I definitely want him back. He's supposed to be _in_ here." He said as he pressed her hand to the center of his chest, looking into her eyes deeply as if pleading with her to understand what he was trying to say. "Maybe with a smaller degree of me to worry about but _this_ is where he belongs. It's strange to describe the way it feels without him; like pieces – it's me and this body and this mind and we're all on our own – he's the thing that would bring it all together. It's like there's this void inside calling him home."

She smiled even as tears filled her eyes. "I know what you mean."

Relief passed over his features as that same sensation he got when he talked to Angel rushed over him, the pleasant one she'd said had something to do with having a friend who understands what you're going through. He smiled and looked down at her flat stomach; it gave no outward indication of the lives within and he laid his hand across it gently. "I gotta say I'm excited about the idea of having these babies with you…never should have been able to be a part of something like this, humans really are lucky in that way – being able to find someone they love and create life from it – but I'm not exactly Da material, that's for sure. I'm still glad for my participation in _making_ the little buggers…" He said with a smirk before his face became serious again. He squinted and chewed the inside of his cheek, whispering, "But he needs to be here for the important stuff, don't ya think?"

Cordelia nodded and willed the tears that were still in her eyes not to fall. "You really want to try then?" She asked, afraid to believe him.

He grinned at her, understanding her concerns. "If you want to wait until after I've leveled Wolfram & Hart that's fine." He was grateful for the laugh the offer earned him.

Silence settled over them as she took the confusing events of the day into consideration, wondering how Doyle would react to returning to his body and finding out that it was also occupied by a large dose of evil. Those blue eyes were on her as she thought it through, his fingers brushing strands of hair from her face gently. She looked at him, remembering his little lesson. He was the motivation to match Doyle's desires, evil or not he was protecting her because he'd merged himself with Doyle's thoughts and wishes out of a need for his guidance. He'd helped Angel because Doyle's bond with him demanded it. He was here, being kind to her and spoiling her rotten because Doyle's heart, mind and body still craved to do so. His consciousness might not be in this shell, his free will and soul, but the rest of him was still here…she let her fingers rest over the beating heart of the man she loved. Just like when the evil had left it still continued its rhythm. This was Doyle, another part of him and one that was here for her.

She gazed into his eyes, this time not trying to see past the blue to the darkness within, not trying to differentiate between the two, simply accepting that they were all parts of the same being now.

Without saying a word she slid closer to him on the bed, bringing her body against his and closing her eyes as she kissed his temple. He didn't make a move to stop her or to reciprocate, was intrigued by her actions and didn't want to distract her from whatever it was she was doing.

Lyrics from Flames by Vast:  
"_Close your eyes, let me touch you now  
Let me give you something that is real…  
Close the door, leave your fears behind  
Let me give you what you're giving me…"_

She whispered for him not to kiss her mouth and his brow arched in surprised understanding. No risking passing what couldn't be received yet…_but did that mean…was she really intending_…?

He rolled over onto his back as she urged him to, watching in awe as she leaned down and kissed his forehead, his eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw-line and his collarbone. Each time she let her lips linger on his skin his breath caught in his throat at the level of pleasure it caused. The scent of her hair as it fell around their faces like a curtain was intoxicating, it made it impossible to keep his eyes open as he breathed her in.

She smiled down at him, leaning to his ear and pressing her lips there before whispering, "Do you want me, love?"

The low moan that rumbled in his throat was completely of its own volition, every nerve in this body reverberated with the urge to answer the question she'd thrown back into his court. She watched him struggling to open his eyes to look up at her and smiled at his strained reply of, "More than anything."

She rolled onto her back slowly and pulled him along with her, staring up at him as she traced his lips with her fingertips. She watched him pull her hand to his mouth, his eyes closing again as he pressed a kiss to her palm. "Then _have_ me." She told him.

His face twisted in longing, his breathing ragged as he looked down at her in disbelief. _It was a trick; it had to be a trick. She was going to start screaming any minute now, right? She wouldn't let him have her – not like this – not after he'd told her how much he wanted to be with her again in this way, to have her touching him so tenderly. Then again, he was the evil one here, not her. So why? _

She tilted her head to the side, staring up at him with those dark eyes and running her hand over his back as she watched him worrying. The smile and nod she gave him seemed to put his concerns to rest.

Slowly he leaned down to her, kissing her throat gently and hearing that same breathy moan she'd given the first time. She wrapped her arms around his back, pulling him down to her and kissing his chest as she felt him holding himself up with one arm, managing by some miracle to maneuver his way out of his boxers without breaking contact with her.

Cordelia stared up into his eyes the entire time their bodies moved together, letting him see the love she had for the man he'd become a part of, watching the way he was completely in awe of it. She memorized the changes in his expression as his passion peaked, the way he leaned into her touch when she cradled his face.

"_You are the only thing  
That makes me want to live at all…  
When I am with you there's no reason to pretend  
That when I am with you I feel flames again  
Just put me inside you, I would never ever leave  
Just put me inside you, I would never ever leave…you…"_

It was different this time for him, even better than before. He let his bond to Doyle guide him, felt the bliss that came from loving her, from feeling her love in return, it went far beyond the physical pleasure of the act. They didn't look away even after the echoes of their ecstasy had faded, simply gazed at one another in silent understanding of what they needed to do to make them both whole again.

This time it was him falling asleep in her arms, succumbing to the unfamiliar human exhaustion as she kissed his forehead and ran her fingers through his hair. She sat with her back against the headboard, gazing down at his sleeping face and wondering if Angel and Wesley would understand what he had explained to her, if they would see the truth in his reasons for wanting to bring Doyle's soul back.

With a frown she worried that Wesley would simply want to drive the evil out, not that she could blame him, up until a few hours ago she'd been on the same page as him: evil = bad. It wasn't so simple for her now.

She tried to imagine what being forced out would do to the consciousness inside the man sleeping so peacefully with his head on her chest. Where would it go? It was no longer simply energy without thought; it had experienced too much to just fade away as if it had never happened, could never go back to what it was and that wasn't any fault of its own – this had been done without it's consent.

She realized that she recognized this evil for what it had become in a need to find its purpose; just like the heart that continued beating without any guidance it was a part of Doyle, a part of the man she was in love with. It was Doyle in essence, the same things caused it pleasure and pain – it craved the same things, feared the same things. She wouldn't let them send it away, not unless Doyle regained his free will and told her himself that it was what he wanted.

He stirred in her arms, opening his eyes and smiling up at her.

"Hey there…how'd you sleep?" She asked softly, tilting her head to the side and watching him lean into her touch as she traced her fingers over his cheek.

"Like the most stunning seraph heaven possessed forsook her wings to watch over me." He told her and enjoyed the smile and choppy sigh she gave in response. "They've just arrived." He whispered and she arched a skeptical brow. "It's only the body and mind that need sleeping, princess." He explained as he stretched and yawned, sneaking a kiss on her cheek before climbing from the bed to start getting dressed.

Cordelia decided as she propped her head on her hand and watched him that she was very fond of that Celtic cross and the way hung from his neck when he reached down to pull on his pants, the way it laid against his pale skin as he searched for his shirt.

His voice broke in on her thoughts. "What would happen if I stopped keeping tabs on our surroundings to go unconscious for hours on end? It amazes me that humans _ever_ survive someone wanting to do them harm with all this sleep nonsense. Seems shameful lying with you in that bed and not being awake to enjoy it…but whatever you were doing made this body sleep like a rock. Best rest it's gotten since I've had it, I can tell ya tha."

He reached for the phone on the bedside table a second before it rang. "Right – yeah, should be a tall, broody lookin fella and a bookworm of a Brit? They're good, go ahead and send'em up." He rested the phone back in its cradle and grinned at her, crawling back across the mattress and, following her earlier rule, kissing her forehead instead of her lips. "While I have to say I'm a _big_ fan of the idea of you strutting about wearing nothing but that ten million dollar smile of yours we both know I'm decidedly against sharing the view." He said with a wink.

Cordelia laughed and climbed from the bed, pulling on her clothes and turning to find him staring at her adoringly when she was finished. She sat down beside him, looking at him curiously. "What?" She asked with a smile. "Or is that the standard look of you enjoying _'the view_'?" She teased.

"No…" He said, smiling and looking down at the bed for a minute in that shy Doyle way, letting his mouth hang open a little sideways. She could see that he was tapping into his host's mannerisms more and more. "I just…" With a sigh he looked back up into her eyes, squinting as he whispered. "Thank you."

She looked at him in surprise. "For what?" She asked.

He shrugged, still having a hard time finding words to describe what went on in this head. "For being with me in that way…for showing me I'm making the right decision. You've got this manner of making things clear when they're at their most confusing."

Cordelia fought the instinctive desire to lean down and kiss his mouth; the reason for her rule was the fear that times of high emotion were the ones that posed a threat of her unintentionally letting go of her visions. "You're welcome." She whispered, kissing his temple as he closed his eyes and leaned into the contact.

The elevator let out the tell tale chime and she laughed at the groan he gave in response. "What was I _thinking_?" He whined.

"You were thinking of protecting your friend – which is something you need to do since he's apparently _lost_ without us." Cordelia said with a smile.

"Fine – but I'd like to point out if I'd known I stood any chance of getting you in this bed with me the decision to bring them here would have been _a lot_ less likely." She laughed and kissed his forehead as he sulked. "I'm telling ya I was _duped_." He complained as he took her hand and grudgingly let her lead him out into the main room of the suite.

* * *

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	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

"Angel!" She squealed when she spotted him and he froze like a deer in headlights as he dropped the bag of books. "Wesley!" She released Doyle's hand and broke into a run toward them.

Both men's eyes went wide and they held their arms out as if fending off a new type of demon, each yelling "_no no no no no!_"

She slid to a halt, staring at them in confusion and not noticing the satisfied grin on Doyle's face as he walked up beside her and inclined his head to them. "Evening." He said cheerfully, shrugging in feigned innocence when Cordelia shot him a suspicious look. She turned back to her friends, seeing the relief on their faces that they'd safely averted further physical harm.

"Nice place…" Angel breathed, giving an impressed nod as he looked around the suite. He hoped his surprised expression would be mistaken as stemming from the resort and _not_ the combination of the scent of sex in the air and the contented smile on Cordelia's face.

"Yeah, 'fit for a princess' was sorta the prerequisite." Doyle said with a smirk. "And hey, plus side here, no hell dimension goons waiting to pop out and eat you."

"So…about that." Angel began, looking back at him in confusion. "What…?" He tried but really didn't know which of the four hundred ways he wanted to finish the question he should say first.

Doyle crossed his arms over his chest. "Well I've not been at this for very long but I believe the words you're lookin for are 'thank you'." He smiled and tilted his head to the side. "But hey, I could be wrong."

"Definitely, _thank you_. I'm just curious as to how…and why…and…" Angel began, his brows drawing together with gradually increasing puzzlement.

After rolling his eyes that he was going to have to go through the whole explanation again Doyle motioned to the chairs and watched Wesley and Angel take their seats, reaching over and picking up the phone before getting into it. "Hey, Luvisutto. Gonna need some pig's blood…uh huh…no, can't be human – _he gets a bit touchy about tha_…" He said, lowering his voice to a loud whisper and winking at Angel. "Oh, that's an option?" He asked in surprise. "Hang on, lemme check…" He held the phone away from his mouth and looked back at Angel again. "Do you drink it warm? Says they can bring it chilled or fresh from the kill."

Angel was still blinking in surprise at the conversation and he wasn't the only one, Cordelia's jaw was hanging open as well.

"Is that a yeah or a no?" Doyle asked before finally waving his hand at his stunned friend and deciding for him. "Warm's fine. Thanks." He hung up and turned back to face them. "Look, I hear stomachs a-rumblin in here and while I'm sure Wesley can find something in the kitchen we're not exactly stocked for vampires."

"What was with…?" Cordelia asked, motioning to the phone in disbelief.

He looked at her for a minute, trying to gauge what it was that she was so surprised about before catching on. "_Oh_, that. Well this place caters to all kinds – so long as the power and the money are right. It's got some sort of spell over the place that blocks outside surveillance, prevents anyone from entering with intentions of doing harm to its guests, the usual stuff. It's a kind of refuge…what did you think I meant when I said she was safe here?" He asked as he looked over at Angel.

"I don't know…I just…" Angel held up his hands and shook his head, it had been a long drive after a long session of being kicked around and he was too tired for this. "So anyway, back to you explaining your sudden change of heart."

Doyle sighed and had just opened his mouth to begin when Cordelia's voice cut him off.

"Ooh, can I? Can I?" She asked with a big grin as she sat down on the arm of his chair and he looked at her curiously, unsure if he should be relieved by her offer or very, _very_ afraid. He finally nodded and she took a deep breath, he should have known he was in trouble right then. "Okay evil defines itself as something like 'the self-serving motivation to fulfill ones own desires with no concern for what is done in the effort to reach their fulfillment'. It can be used for all kinds of nasty stuff but it's not picky, just goes with the flow of the person it's inside. Right?" She asked as she looked down and Doyle smirked and nodded. "So Wolfram & Hart, being a bunch of _total_ boneheads who didn't get it figured, 'evil automatically means death and destruction – let's give it its own consciousness and stick it inside someone to make Angel's life a living hell, but we have to use this guy Doyle so he can knock up that beautiful and _extremely_ talented Miss Cordelia Chase'."

Doyle and Angel exchanged a smirk at that.

"So after throwing their bloody tattoo party _presto_, evil wakes up, starts looking around and realizes it has _no clue_ what it's supposed to do because it's just the motivation – not the desire. Basically it's all go-go-go and no think-think-think." She rambled and he looked up at her, unsure if he would be offended if he wasn't finding this so incredibly amusing. "I mean it can get the job _done_, but first it needs to be told what the job _is_. For a while it's just poking around other people's heads trying to figure out what they desire, and unfortunately it was using the actions of murderers, rapists and lawyers who've used it to determine what it should do – which, might I just say, was a totally _retarded_ decision."

"Oh dear _Lord_…" Wesley breathed discretely as he covered his face, unable to believe he was listening to Cordelia tempting the wrath of evil incarnate by telling it she felt the choices it had made were 'retarded'. Doyle suppressed a smile watching Angel kick his foot.

Cordelia, however, never once slowed her rambling. "But anyway, it comes after me, still taking its cue from the cretins at Wolfram & Hart and its previous users and once it found me, let's call a spade a spade here, it acted like a _supreme _dirt-bag _asshole_." She said pointedly, arching a brow and glaring down at him, waiting to see if he'd disagree. He simply nodded that she was right so she grinned triumphantly and continued, not noticing the terrified whimper that escaped Wesley at her words.

"In the process of being said supreme dirt-bag asshole it starts tapping into the memories it has in Doyle's head so it can figure out how to hurt me and Angel on a more personal level…and it starts feeling all these confusing emotions. It ignores them, because apparently we can add '_dense'_ to the description of evil when it's an entity, and does the whole '_if I don't pay attention to them they'll go away_' thing you men are all so fond of. I believe at this point we can stop calling it an '_it'_ because in my opinion that was a defining moment for determining that evil is definitely a _guy_." She decided, nodding to herself before continuing.

"So weeks go by, Wolfram & Hart's cronies tell _him_ that I'm pregnant and what they plan to do to me and it all comes together, when Doyle's mind and body started getting pissed off so did _he_…and he discovered while plotting against them that he has access to the yin to his yang. He has the desire he was looking for already on tap inside of Doyle, so no more need to go outside the box for guidance." She grinned and looked at the dumbfounded expressions on Angel and Wesley's faces.

"Get it? Get it?" She asked excitedly. "Wolfram & Hart _screwed up_. They didn't understand evil well enough to be messing around with it. He can't exist alone; he has to be a part of an individual so he's settling into his role as the self-serving motivation to do whatever it takes to fulfill _Doyle's_ desires. For starters, protecting the people he cares about – Angel, that would be me and you. He's merging with Doyle and even though emotions are a completely new experience for him he's taking cues from the ones in Doyle's mind and learning to react to them. Like say, for instance, he's doing his weird energy thing – which you totally can't tell he's doing, by the way – and happens to find you two fighting some scary demons sixty some odd miles away at my apartment. He's in tune enough with Doyle's mind to feel concern for your safety and the desire to help, and apparently he's capable of getting to you, saving your asses and getting back here inside of two minutes. So you see? He's still _evil_, but he's _Doyle's_ evil now so he's not dangerous to us."

The room remained in silence for a moment and Cordelia's satisfied grin slowly faded. "_What?_" She demanded of Angel and Wesley's vacant stares. "Did I not tell it right?" She asked Doyle self-consciously and he pulled her down to sit in his lap.

"You explained it just fine, princess. It's a matter of whether or not they want to hear it, is all." He said soothingly, watching Angel and Wesley as he ran his hand over her hair. "And I gotta say, after listening to all of tha? I understand a little better how even _evil_ can fall in love with you."

Cordelia grinned and elbowed him in the ribs playfully as she rolled her eyes, but frowned when she noticed that her friends still weren't talking. She tilted her head back and looked up at him. "Do your energy thing and check their heads, they both kinda look like the lights are on but nobody's home." She said with a smile.

"_What?_" Wesley asked in a shrill tone, sitting upright at the idea of having this being sorting around inside his mind. "No, someone is very definitely home, I assure you." He said quickly.

"They're trying to decide whether this is some kind of trick I've cooked up, if I'm trying to lure them into a false sense of security." Doyle told her and met Angel's penetrating gaze without hesitation, letting the vampire try to read his intentions. After a moment Angel seemed to move back into thinking things over and looked away. Doyle smiled and returned to adoring the beauty in his lap. He lifted her hand, appreciating as always how delicate it looked compared to his own, pressing a kiss to the side of her head when she entwined their fingers.

"Well aren't you going to tell them it's _not_ a trick?" She asked and he laughed.

"Why? Me saying anything's not gonna impact their decisions, princess. It's up to them, either way I'm still gonna keep you safe – just a matter of whether they'll be here with us where I can keep them alive or somewhere else fighting on their own." He told her and she sighed, leaning back against him.

"But how are we gonna figure out how to get the mark off of you without their help?" She pouted and instantly Wesley and Angel were on their feet.

"_Cordelia!_" Wesley said in stern disapproval.  
"Wait, you _told_ him?" Angel asked in stunned disbelief.

The change in Doyle's posture was instant, the swirling blackness consuming his vision in response to their tones as his energy shoved them both back into their seats, the impact sending their chairs backward a foot or so across the floor. "Alright, let's just simmer down, shall we?" He snapped in a low voice and glared at them, challenging them silently to fight the power that gripped them.

Suddenly you could have heard a pin drop.

_His move…_

The blackness was swirling in his eyes, his jaw was flexing and his body was trembling with violent intentions. He took a deep breath, trying to control himself in the absence of Doyle's soul. He wasn't _meant_ to keep himself in line, damn it, wouldn't even be trying to were it not for…

_Cordelia_…

So relaxed and comfortable in his arms a second earlier she'd now gone rigid in his lap. Her body was tensed fearfully waiting to see how he was going to react. He forced himself to tear his gaze away from Angel and Wesley and looked down at her long, slender fingers entwined with his. Using her hand to anchor him he closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of it instead of the desire to paint the suite with them for speaking in such harsh tones. If he allowed that to happen Cordelia would never speak to him again and would _definitely_ never give herself to him as she'd done a short time earlier.

He let out a staggered sigh as memories of that experience caused his heart rate to slowly return to normal, pressed his face to her hair and inhaled her scent deeply as he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. After a moment of tense silence he opened his blue eyes, blinking as if coming out of a dream.

Angel had been watching him intensely, listening to the changes in his pulse, his breathing – sensing the energy that had been crackling in the air surrounding him slowly subsiding, feeling it easing the grip it had on him and Wesley in time with the rest of it. He noted the way he had held onto Cordelia's hand as he'd forced himself to fight for control and understood what he was doing.

Doyle's voice was soft and bordering on exhausted when he finally spoke again and hearing it Cordelia reached behind her, running her hand through the back of his hair. "That's better; no need to get all feisty, right? Besides – Angel, your food's here." He told him, listening to the elevator reach their floor a second later.

"_I'm proud of you again_." Cordelia whispered over her shoulder to him, grinning and kissing his mouth this time since she wasn't all emotional. "_You did great…I know it's hard but it means a lot that you're trying._" She said softly and he smiled down at her, nodding and nuzzling his face to hers.

"_And_ _I'm so damned tired again…does that ever stop?_" He complained and she smiled, telling him he could let his body sleep soon, that it needed more than an hour a day to get by and that she didn't want to _contemplate_ how sleep deprived it was after being left to his sole care for so many weeks.

Angel listened to their words despite them not being intended to carry to his ears and was surprised by the rewards system these two had apparently put into place, as well as how effective her praise was in keeping the evil in check. He talked differently to Cordelia, Angel noticed, let his guard down. Transversely he heard something unfamiliar in Cordelia's voice when she spoke to him; _patience, compassion, understanding_ – it was like listening to another person entirely. He hated to admit he was finding it more and more difficult to believe that the evil was trying to pull anything funny here.

The group sat in silence as room service brought the glass over and set it up beside Angel, not needing to ask who it was for. Doyle signed for the charge to the room and passed the book back to the man, his eyes locked with Angel's the entire time as they tried to gauge one another.

After the elevator doors closed again Cordelia spoke up indignantly. "As for your question – do I look stupid? I didn't _tell_ him anything – hello, let's not forget that we weren't aware of his nifty little ability to get inside our heads. Besides, he already knew what those marks were. We were having a private discussion and it came up that he actually _wants_ Doyle's soul restored. He's not supposed to exist without one – he needs Doyle's back where it belongs so it can act as his balance." She watched Angel and Wesley both shift at her mention of the familiar concept and glared at them determinedly. "That's right, you heard me – I said _balance_ – you know, that thing both of you are _always_ telling me is the reason for anything I don't understand. Now…somebody better start either arguing or agreeing with me so we can move on."

Angel leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, trying not to smirk as Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest and put on her most challenging scowl. "Wesley?" He said, not wanting to speak first since, in all honesty, he wasn't seeing any reason to protest.

"Well…" Wesley began hesitantly. "I can't say I'm crazy about the idea of trusting him…but I really don't see the harm in it." He confessed. "It's not as if we've a choice in whether Cordelia stays with him as he's made _painfully_ apparent…and he did help us when he stood to gain nothing from it…it's just…"

"You're worrying whether I'd be after that scroll you stowed away in the bag over there…" Doyle began, smiling when Wesley look at him worriedly. "Then it may help you to understand when I picked Cordy up from your place I knew it was in the cabinet in your bedroom and, while you can't deny that I could have, I didn't take it for Wolfram & Hart."

"Which raises the question, why didn't you try to take it for yourself then if you were looking to get his soul back?" Angel asked.

Doyle shrugged. "Not really up on the ancient languages, man; wouldn't have done me much good." He looked down at Cordelia and his tone softened. "Plus…at that point it was just a confusing feeling…took some time alone with this one here to understand what would make me whole…to decide what needs to be done."

"What you're suggesting…" Wesley began hesitantly.

"Is that we get this mark off, just the one to block Doyle's soul from coming back. I think we can all agree he'd stand to gain something from the healing abilities and all tha – and as for whether or not to keep me around Cordelia's decided that'll be up to _him_." He answered determinedly. "Not any of us."

Cordelia looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. So he'd heard her worrying that they'd drive him out, that Doyle might decide not to accept this new part of himself after he returned…but he was still going to try, even with those risks. She drew his arms around her tightly, hating the familiarity of the fear that she was going to lose something that had to do with Doyle.

Angel watched the way the two were staring at one another and felt the full impact of how close they were to having Doyle back now – the _real_ Doyle – the one who'd given his life for them so many months ago. He dared to let hope form inside of him that it could happen and took a deep breath. "I vote we go ahead and give it a try, but we need to remove the symbol that blocks guilt, too. Wesley, time to hit the books and get back to translating – see if this is even possible." He began and smiled at the excited grin that immediately came to Cordelia's face. She had Doyle's body to hold her and comfort her, his protection and his children growing inside of her…but she was still desperately missing the man she loved. Telling the consciousness of evil inside his body how she felt was a pleasant distraction but the words weren't reaching their intended recipient.

"Yes, I've found the passage with the rites they used for bringing the evil to consciousness – I'd imagine the answers we're looking for are there. That's where I'll start the search." Wesley said as he stood and went to retrieve the bag.

"Fantastic – you have _buckets_ of fun with that; I'm gonna go get more frustratingly necessary sleep. Princess here informs me drinking to excess and staying awake for days on end is not so good for the mortal coil or some such nonsense. Don't want your boy coming home and finding I've made a mess of the place." He said with a smile.

"Not that you could _possibly _be thrashing it any worse than he did." Cordelia said, rolling her eyes as she climbed from his lap. "He'd probably commend you for the hour you did get."

"There's a room with a bed back that way, other side of the elevator without any windows – I'd say it's got your name written all over it." Doyle told Angel as he walked past him, reaching down and putting his hand on his shoulder for some odd reason. He tilted his head to the side, regarding the vampire curiously as he smiled up at him. "I suppose I'm sorta…a bit…glad…that you weren't eaten, ya know? Not sure why that is exactly."

Angel laughed and nodded, putting his hand over Doyle's. "Good to know. And thanks again for that, by the way."

After taking another few seconds to sort through the strange emotions that stemmed from Angel still being in one piece he shrugged and walked away, calling out a "goodnight" over his shoulder before disappearing into the bedroom.

Angel watched him go; sighing and doing a double take when he looked up and found Cordelia staring at him. "What?" He asked as she grinned.

"_Sooo_…what do you think?" She asked excitedly. "About the whole new and improved evil Doyle?"

Angel shook his head, trying to suppress his own grin at the way she was showing him off like her latest achievement. "_Well_, since I'm not sticking out of the wall like a piece of modern art I'd say you've had a positive influence on him. This can't be easy to take in all at once, coming into being and having to learn humanity from scratch…how's he handling it?"

Cordy sat down on the chair across from him and tucked her legs under herself, smiling in the direction of the bedroom. She talked quietly but only so she wouldn't disturb him as he tried to fall asleep, she held no illusions that he wouldn't be aware of her words. "Surprisingly? _Really well_. I mean things are confusing and he needs translations for what his mind and body go through, I guess when you experience the stuff your entire life you sorta take it for granted. Like when you and Wesley were gonna get killed his thoughts were going all crazy and his body was tense and aching with the need to do something but he didn't understand why or what it was telling him to do. Any of us would say, friend in danger, stomach churning – time to try and help them. He doesn't have any guidance inside to help him figure that out."

"He's lucky to have you helping him with that, whether you realize it or not he's using you as a means to keep himself in line for the time being. I just hope we can get Doyle's soul back inside him before someone pisses him off to the point where holding your hand won't do the trick anymore." Angel said, looking up as Wesley approached with a stack of books in hand.

"There's a study in the back corner," Cordelia told him as she pointed it out. "Has like a zillion books and a desk and everything if you want to set up in there. There's a couch, too so if you want to crash there you can."

Wesley looked at her in surprise. "_Really_?" He glanced around the expansive space and its multitude of rooms. "This is quite the place he's secured for you two…do we even want to know who died to make it possible?"

Cordelia laughed. "Actually no one, he sorta helped himself to a generous severance package before leaving Wolfram & Hart – _which_ reminds me, I've got a long day of shopping ahead of me tomorrow." She said with a grin, slapping her hands down on the arms of the chair and standing. "You guys try to stay out of trouble until the morning, okay? And Angel, this place is gonna be pretty lit up come sunrise." She motioned to the windows covering most of the walls. "I guess they figure if you're in a suite overlooking the ocean you'd want sunshine – but in your case I'd suggest making a little sweep to close as many blinds as you can. Good night." She told them, shuffling off to the bedroom.

She closed the door behind her and wandered over to the bed, smiling when she saw that he was still fully clothed atop the comforter. She crawled over to him, lying beside him and arching a brow when he turned to face her. "You're _supposed_ to be asleep." She told him.

"Hey, it's not for lack of trying. The mind and body won't do their thing without you in the room now; you've gone and spoiled them with all that cuddlin." He said as she smiled down at him.

"I think I can deal with being needed as a bed buddy. Oh, and while I realize Doyle's memories of sleep arrangements probably consist of flopping down face-first and drunk on his couch – for future reference, removing some clothes and getting _under_ the covers is generally how this whole bed thing works." She teased.

With a groan he sat up and did the fastest removal of clothing she'd ever seen performed before peeling back the covers and sheets and working himself under them. "There, ya happy? Your turn." He said with a yawn.

Cordelia shook her head and stood, undressing and going to find his shirt where he'd tossed it on the floor, using it as a nightgown before climbing into bed beside him. When she caught his frown she arched a brow. "What?" She asked.

"What's with the shirt?" He complained.

She laughed at his willingness to whine at her lack of nudity. "Well we do have company, Mr. '_Decidedly against Sharing the View_'. Besides, isn't that why you're still wearing your boxers?"

"_No_…" He said as he flashed her a wicked grin. "I'm wearing the boxers because you think Doyle's ass looks great in them."

Cordelia's mouth hung open, her initial response was to deny it but there'd be no point. "Alright, new rule – stay _out_ of my head." She said with a laugh before realization hit her. "Oh_ God_, Doyle's not gonna be able to do that after we get him back in that body, is he?"

He shrugged evasively. "We'll have to wait and see, now won't we?"

She rolled her eyes and cuddled against him. "I tremble at the thought of what he'd do with that ability. Wait a minute…aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She reminded him and hugged him as he let out a contented sigh.

"Give me _two_ minutes and I'll be out like a light." He promised.

If she'd timed it he'd been fairly liberal in his prediction. She listened to his shallow breaths and soft snores as she nuzzled into the crook of his arm. For the first time in months she found herself completely able to relax as she tried to fall asleep. Doyle was here in her arms, his soul was apparently safe from harm inside of her along with two tiny lives she couldn't _wait_ to tell him about, Angel and Wesley were here where no bad guys could come and start a fight with them…after running through that checklist and smiling at the comfort of it she slipped into the most restful sleep she could recall.

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	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

In his incorporeal form he explored the world around them, leaving his body to the peace of Cordelia's sleeping embrace.

_Angel was lying awake in the dark room down the hall, staring up at the ceiling and missing Doyle's soul, brooding over his death and so on. There seemed to be a list in that vampire's head of things he'd never gotten the chance to tell his friend, regrets for not being the one to jump, pride that Doyle had been so brave in his final moments, that he'd done what he felt was right without compromise. _

_Wesley was deep in thought in the study at the end of the suite, pouring over texts and fully engrossed in the agonizingly slow task of translating the scroll. He was a flagellant one, that Brit; constantly chiding himself for everything from his thought process to his posture – even __**energy**__ could get tired inside of two seconds in that self-berating mind. The abused become their own abuser it would seem…_

_He pressed further outward, checking in on Wolfram & Hart's key players._

_Lilah was still in her office scanning documents and plotting against coworkers for her own personal gain; big shocker there. He figured she'd be less of a vindictive bitch if she'd just own up to her pent up bisexuality, maybe pay a visit to that dark haired slayer in prison she fancied so much, but hey – that was just his opinion. _

_Holland was at home deep in the restful sleep of a man unaffected by trivial matters of conscience, not a care in the world. He took a moment to observe the inner workings of this mind and found it unfathomably boring. True, Doyle's mind was filled with confusing emotions but at least it was something to keep him busy – Holland's thoughts contained nothing but the desire to please his superiors so that he could advance in the firm. No love or friends to concern himself with, his wife was a warm body in the bed beside him and an escort at parties. He decided he found the man intolerable even in small doses and moved on. _

_Ah, Lindsey – tossing and turning in his bed several miles away, wishing he'd just cut up Doyle's body and shipped it to Angel when he still had the chance. Here was a mind filled with passion, nowhere near as confusingly selfless in its purpose as Doyle's – that was for sure. The passion was focused on a single desire here – vengeance; and a single emotion – rage. With a great deal of amusement he found the cause for Lindsey's renewed anger. The blame was falling on his and Lilah's heads for their unwilling associate's decision to leave the firm. If he found anything remotely resembling love in this shell it was for the thoughts of hurting Angel in some way. He disliked this Lindsey character, had since the first time he laid eyes on him and decided to leave this mind quickly so he could return to his new home. The more he wandered the fonder he became of his host. _

_The world was going on as usual; all the strands of the web humming with the movement of the regular types of energy, himself included, though he'd never been conscious enough to appreciate it before. No trouble on the home front_…until…

In an instant he flooded back into Doyle's body, his eyes snapping open as he felt something powerful coming inbound and heading straight for Cordelia. Without thinking twice he'd gone into intercept mode and unexpectedly the sounds of both of their screams were echoing through the suite.

_Pain…_

_Blinding, body-rocking, mind-numbing, skull-splitting pain shot through him. He held fast to her, at least he hoped he was, hard to tell when something is doing its best to murder you by migraine. He fought to open his eyes, seeing nothing but white light and…_

_Uh-oh…_

The bedroom door was nearly knocked off its hinges as Angel raced in, his eyes scanning the room for an attacker. When he found none he stared at the two in disbelief, watching them slowly coming out of it and sitting upright, leaning on one another and clutching their heads.

"_What is it? More demons?_" Wesley demanded in a shrill, panicked voice as he slid to a halt beside Angel, battle-axe in hand as he looked around in wide-eyed terror.

"Holy mother of…" Doyle was breathing. "Are you alright, princess? What _was_ that?"

Angel looked back and forth between the two. "Wait, how did he feel it?" He asked in confusion.

"Feel what?" Doyle and Wesley both demanded.

"Cordelia's vision." Angel answered quickly.

"_That_ was a _vision_? Well Christ, she can't have those! She's got _babies_ in there, man!" Doyle said angrily.

"Oh God…I think I'm gonna be sick…" Cordelia moaned and on unsteady legs climbed from the bed in a rush for the bathroom, sending out a mental _'don't you dare follow me in here_' to Doyle as she slammed the door behind her and proceeded to empty the contents of her stomach. He winced at the sound and fought to follow her demand that he stay put.

"Well? What happened? How did you feel it, too?" Angel asked.

"I was just poking around, making sure nothing was going on that might pose any danger and felt something strong making a b-line for her, jumped in its path and had my skull split open for the effort by the feel of it." He groaned and rubbed his temples. "She can't get those, man – I'm _serious_ – not with the little ones inside her. That was like a pain-threshold earthquake test from hell. How do we block them?"

Angel shook his head. "We can't, the only way will be to transfer them to you."

"Oh _lucky me_, what the hell for? Can't we just get rid of the damned things?" He complained.

"_No_, we need them and if you want Doyle's soul back they're a part of the package." Angel said in a short tone. His nerves were still on end from waking to the sounds of both of his friends screaming in pain and the last thing he wanted to hear was evil wondering how to sever his link to the Powers for its own reasons.

Cordelia wandered back out into the room, shuffling to the bed and pulling the covers up around her as she rested her head in Doyle's lap. "A whole bunch of big, snarly demons, four horns and red scales, working some kind of spell and Wolfram & Hart is definitely involved, Lindsey was there."

"You got all tha from having your head blown to bits?" Doyle asked in shock as he stroked her hair. "I didn't see a thing; all I got was blinding pain…I did however get an eyeful of your boy."

"Doyle? You _saw_ Doyle?" Angel asked, stepping closer to the bed.

"Yeah and let me tell ya, Da was _none too happy_ about seeing me in his body." He said as he recalled the scowl that had been on Doyle's face. "Not that I got to talk to him with powers of speech being a total impossibility – Cordy, love – you can't be alright after that, muster a little complaining for me so I'm not the only one going on about how brutal it was."

"Actually…" Cordelia began thoughtfully as she peered up at him. "The pain was…tolerable, _for once_…I mean it hurt but nowhere _near_ the usual. What did you do?" She asked him.

He shook his head, "Stepped in front of a damned freight train if the pain in my head's any indication."

"You don't suppose he absorbed the majority of it, do you?" Wesley asked Cordelia and Angel. "Acted as a filter of sorts…allowed her to receive the message without the pain of its initial impact?"

"I really think he might have. I mean it didn't feel good on my end but it was totally different." She said in surprise.

Angel snapped and pointed at Doyle. "There you go; you want to protect those babies you have to do _exactly_ what you just did when she gets her visions, at least until we can transfer them." He watched him grudgingly nod as he comforted Cordelia, hoping he'd leave it at that and not try to figure out a way to block them from reaching her at all. "Do we have any idea when it's going to happen, Cordy?"

It was Doyle that answered. "Not for a while, I can tell ya that much. Lindsey's still at home pondering his usual, '_Angel – how do I hate thee? Let me count the ways_'." He said with a frustrated sigh and, noting the look on Angel's face he added, "Scouting for danger, remember? He's on my checklist of minds to surf; that man's got a _serious_ hate-on for you over his missing hand. You don't even want to know the plans he had for this body to get revenge on you. Let's just say going out to get the mail would have been an exciting experience for a while."

"Can't you just kill him?" Cordelia blurted out, not realizing she'd said it aloud until she noticed that all three of them were staring at her. "I mean if you're in there crawling around in his mind already wouldn't it be easier to just, I don't know, make his head explode or something?"

Doyle smiled from ear to ear. He'd just opened his mouth to tell her that was a wonderful idea and that he'd be right back when Angel cut in.

"Absolutely not!_ Cordelia – _since when are we killing _humans_?" Angel asked in disbelief.

"Since the human in question is causing more damage than evil incarnate." She snapped back as she motioned up at Doyle.

"Ya know she's raises an excellent point." Doyle said with a grin.

"_Completely_ out of the question." Angel said, shaking his head insistently. "If it gets to the point where we have no other choice then maybe…"

"And when might that be, exactly?" Doyle snapped. "When he figures out some way to kill you, or _worse_, Cordelia? When I no longer have you around to preach to me that it's '_wrong'_? Personally I'm all for the plan of being proactive and keeping her _alive_." He said, glaring at Angel as the blackness started to seep into the blue of his eyes. He smiled down at Cordelia. "What d'ya say, princess? You just give the word and I guarantee Wolfram & Hart and everyone associated with it will never cause you any more grief, can wipe'em all out like the vermin they are, get'em where they live and be back here enjoying your company inside of five minutes."

She stared at him in shock as she suddenly found herself standing at a crossroad, her finger hovering dangerously close to the big red button that could launch something far more destructive and ruthless than any atomic bomb. She didn't know what gave her pause, whether it was Angel's stern voice of reason or the way he was giving her pleading looks, the blackness that was growing more prevalent in Doyle's eyes as he gazed down at her or the excitement in his voice at the prospect of being turned loose for a killing spree, fear of being held responsible or simply her own morality. Whatever the cause the gravity of the decision slowly became clear.

The words '_where they live_' stung her – what about the innocent spouses and children in the homes 'where they lived'? Did she really want them to witness the brutal deaths of their loved ones – even if those loved ones deserved to die? What if they got in the way or tried to protect his targets? He'd told her that no stronger or purer evil had ever existed in the world – a statement that encompassed the motivation to fulfill the desires of historical figures such as oh say for instance, _Hitler_. She knew he wouldn't hesitate in taking additional lives in the course of reaching his goal. It would be collateral damage, not like he could experience guilt for it anyway. But what about _Doyle_? What if he returned to his mind and body and had to endure what the evil inside of him had been allowed to do? Would he have memories of it? Look what Angel had gone through for crying out loud; could she knowingly do that to the man she loved? And he'd said _'everyone associated'_, was he making any distinction between the big players and the girl who answered the phones in the main lobby? Did the janitor that mopped the floors deserve to die simply for being on the payroll of an evil enterprise?

"No…" She whispered finally.

"Great, I'll be right – wait, _what_?" He asked, his face falling in disappointed disbelief for a second before darkening in anger. "Well why the hell not?"

"Because I'm _asking_ you not to…" She said, swallowing hard and locking her eyes with his. "It might seem simple but it really isn't, okay? I could sit here and explain my reasons to you for the rest of the night and you probably still wouldn't understand. So…I'll just tell you that I don't want you to do it…and hope that you have the strength to restrain yourself."

Angel and Wesley cast worried looks at one another watching Doyle growling and stammering in increasing frustration at her dismissal of the plan, he'd apparently already been looking forward to it.

"But…what's the _point_ of…? Why not…? We could skip all this waiting and worrying nonsense…just _think_ what you're saying for a minute would ya? Why would you not…? What _possible_ reason could you…?" He rambled.

Cordelia kept silent and fought for the courage to be his moral compass. She didn't look away from the pitch black energy that was swirling in his enraged eyes, no matter how badly it frightened her, no matter how terrifying it was that the power had completely overtaken the white and blue and was streaking outward across his face like inked tears.

Taking an unfamiliar path she didn't put up a façade of strength to face her opponent, instead she allowed him to see her vulnerability in that moment, the fear in her eyes and sweat on her brow as she fought back waves of nausea, the exhausting toll the vision had taken on her and the pain that still lingered in its wake. She let him stare down at the mortal in his arms who needed his support and didn't have the strength to argue with him, willed herself to be an open book to him and prayed he'd take the time to read.

The silence was abrupt as it settled over the room and left Wesley and Angel feeling completely out of the loop as Doyle and Cordelia stared into each other's eyes. Both of them were saying silent prayers that he didn't intend to harm her because they _knew_, despite realizing they'd never live long enough to reach her, that they'd still make the attempt.

Doyle's nostrils flared as he breathed heavily in anger and studied her, searching for a fight inside of her, a will to argue her point to him. He found none and was fast becoming hopelessly confused by it. In the absence of that familiar spark he discovered she was somehow letting him into her beyond what he was usually able to explore. He felt her emotions and they concerned him, sought out her desire and found that in that moment it was only for him to trust her, to realize that she was weak right then and that she needed him.

_Weak_…his brows drew together at that word and he shook his head slightly as if denying the possibility. Not _Cordelia_, even when he'd hurt her she'd had that fire within her, that driving force of perseverance. He looked down at her body and flinched at the sensations coursing through it, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully, trying to understand it all as it washed over him.

_Comfort_, it was immediate – he could feel the comfort she gained from his touch but that was just the surface of her sensations, he delved further. There was nausea, he'd expected as much, but there was also pain and exhaustion, frailty…_humanity_. The thought panicked and sobered him, _Cordelia – weak and human_. It was a gut wrenching association for him. The notion of mortality had never been as overwhelming for him as it was when he realized it applied to her as well.

_Fear_…he sought the cause and his breath caught in his throat. The fear was of _him_, conflicting with her sense of security in his arms. His features softened; he didn't like fear, not when he experienced it in Doyle's body and _especially _not when he found it in hers with himself as the cause. She'd helped him with his fear…explained it to him, told him how to make it go away…how could he make hers go away, too? What was she afraid of?

He found that he greatly disliked the realization that Cordelia's fear was for the safety of herself and the babies, it caused pain in his own body, his own mind to learn that. _She was afraid that he'd do something to hurt_…

Tiny heartbeats caught his attention and he winced as he sought them out, the sound effectively forced all other thoughts from his mind. He could feel their presence deep inside of her – mere wisps of life, so impossibly fragile that it astonished him. As his eyes settled on her stomach she watched them slowly changing back to blue, waiting for his breathing to return to normal before reaching out to him.

Her hand on his cheek called him back into Doyle's body completely and he withdrew his energy from hers, looking down at her as if just waking from a dream. Shocked understanding of everything she was trying to tell him was written all over his face. He realized with panic that he didn't have the slightest idea of what to do to help, how to make her feel better again.

"I'm just really tired…can we go back to sleep?" She asked softly and watched his eyes widen.

"_Yeah_…I mean, _sure_…no problem." He said quickly, nodding and lying back on the bed.

Angel blinked repeatedly. "What the hell just happened?" He muttered to Wesley.  
"I doubt we'll ever know."Wesley muttered back in just as much confusion.

"Can you guys close the door on your way out?" Cordelia asked and they both stared at her for a moment as if hoping for some sort of explanation. When it became apparent that she had no intention of filling them in Angel nodded and grabbed Wesley's arm.

"Umm…good night…let us know if you…umm…need anything…" Wesley said, trying not to sound as bewildered as he actually was as Angel led him out the door and pulled it shut.

She lay on her side and smiled as he curled himself around her, kissing the back of her head and wrapping his arm around her. "Thank you." She whispered to him.

He drank in the feeling of her in his arms, nuzzling into her hair and breathing her in. "You know…Cordelia…I wasn't trying to…_you know_…" He said quietly, his brows drawing together at the memory of her fear. "It's…they're out there wanting to hurt you and knowing that…it just _does_ something to me…" His arm tightened around her and she pulled his hand to her mouth, kissing it softly.

"I know…but how about we don't think about that now?" She suggested with a smile. "And this time why don't you stay with your body for a little while, figure out this whole sleep thing…who knows, you might enjoy it." She teased.

"Only the part where I get an excuse to lay like this." He said with a yawn. "Night, princess." He muttered, finding that if Doyle did decide to keep him around he had a respect for what the poor bastard was in for. It was draining on this body to hold him back when he got angry like that. He drifted off to sleep wondering what his chances of being kept by his host would be.

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	20. Chapter 20

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**CHAPTER 20**

With the knowledge that his time with Cordelia might be fleeting he'd gone to great lengths to make the next day ridiculously happy for her and, in turn, for himself. He realized that he was taking a pretty large risk requesting Doyle's soul be restored but found it necessary – after the night's events it was apparent that he couldn't play good cop/bad cop with himself and he couldn't keep using Cordelia as his guide. It made her feel fear and sadness and he liked it much more when she was smiling and carefree.

He decided not to point out to them that if Doyle did decide to have him removed from his body it wouldn't keep him away from Cordelia, from watching over her and keeping her safe. For a while he'd feared (yes, _that_ dreadful emotion again) that he wouldn't retain his desire to do so if he no longer had Doyle's memories and emotions to direct him. Cordelia had unknowingly put his worries to rest in a thought to herself and he was grateful he'd been listening: _he was a consciousness now and he'd experienced too much to go back to what he had been_.

She was right; he had memories even when he left the body of her and the time they'd shared together. He was a being – the mirror of Doyle, all of his beliefs and thoughts were from the man, he'd learned how to _exist_ using Doyle as a model. Whether he had a shape or not he had built his _own_ desire for Cordelia from what he'd learned inside Doyle's mind and it could stand independent from his host.

The major flaw with that whole scenario was that he'd no longer be able to touch her, to kiss or hold her while she slept…and that brought him right back to the nagging fear that his time was running out to indulge in these things.

So they started the morning with breakfast in a private gazebo on the beach at sunrise and if the bone cracking hug she'd given him was any indication she'd thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The endless shops that lined the boardwalk were all a part of the hotel and, as such, were still under the protection of its spell. Cordelia had been given free reign of the bank account he'd set up and she hadn't wasted any time getting down to business.

He decided that spending money was an innate gift of hers and wondered if the children would be born with the same talent – if so Doyle was in for a hell of a time. Inside of an hour she needed a veritable entourage to carry her purchases and he'd shaken his head as he periodically told the men loaded up like pack mules behind them to send the stuff up to their suite. He could only imagine Angel and Wesley's amusement at the growing pile as it formed.

Luvisutto looked like his face would crack if he continued smiling so severely but continuously checked in on them, asking the dreaded _'would the lady like…?'_ question that seemed to instantly cost more money. It was immensely enjoyable to watch her go though, to see the grin on her face as she was treated like royalty. It suited her, he felt.

They had a pleasant lunch in a private little café followed by massive amounts of shopping, a romantic dinner in a ritzy Italian restaurant followed by, _you guessed it_, massive amounts of shopping. The sun had long since set by the time he'd sent the exhausted second shift of her entourage upstairs with their final loads. They walked along the moonlit beach in silence and he tried not to tap into her head too much to make sure she was alright, judging by the glow of her face he'd say that was a non-issue.

Everything was going perfectly, as such it struck him as odd when he suddenly found himself kneeling in the sand with no memory of how he'd come to be there…

He was dazed as he tried to account for those lost seconds and the feeling of what had been attempted. _That'd explain what they were up to…but how had they…?_

With realization sweeping over him, not to mention Cordelia clutching at his shirt in panic he looked up and found that in their casual strolling they'd unintentionally crossed the marker indicating the threshold of the shield of the hotel. Without a word of explanation he grabbed her and raced back within its safety, catching his breath as she stared into his eyes frantically.

"What happened? _Answer me_…oh God…what is it? What's wrong? _Say something!_" She pleaded, running her hands over his face. The joy she'd been glowing with a moment earlier had been eroded by desperate terror for him.

_Those cold hearted bastards; didn't they realize that joy had cost well over $700,000.00 and more than twelve hours of power-shopping to establish? _

He sighed and pressed her hand to his cheek when he finally managed to focus on her. "I'm fine – really, princess. We just need to stay inside those posts there, yeah?"

She launched herself at him with that, hugging him and pressing her face under his chin as she started crying hysterically. His brows drew in confusion at her reaction and he decided now was a good time to do a little delving.

What he found were three memories playing on repeat in High Definition with Dolby Digital quality surround sound for full-on emotional impact…

One was of him a moment earlier suddenly going lifeless and falling to the ground beside her – he hadn't realized how long those few seconds could seem to her…the next was the blood that had poured from his chest when he'd been shot…and the last was the scene of Doyle's death…

He had to admit that while Doyle's memories hadn't exactly painted a pleasant portrait of the event, her angle hadn't made for such a pretty scene, either…and there was a scream…a _blood-curdling, gut-wrenching _scream there at the end Doyle apparently hadn't been conscious of as the light claimed him. He held onto her tightly and kissed her forehead as the sound of it echoing inside her mind set his hairs on end. The full weight of her grief slammed into him with drastic effects on his body, he'd never before felt the tears that were welling up in his eyes or the lump that was rising in his throat.

"_Shh, shh, shh_…it's alright, love. It's _alright_. Everything's fine, I promise. I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay. I just found out what Wolfram & Hart is up to is all. Didn't mean to frighten ya, I'm _right _here. You can feel me, yeah? I'm _here_, princess. I'm still _here_…" He told her as she sobbed uncontrollably and clung to him. The emotion she was experiencing was so agonizing it nearly stole his ability to stay upright, how could such a tiny little thing have all that pain inside of her and still function? She was crying as if he'd only just died, letting out all the grief she hadn't been able to share with Doyle – _her _Doyle. He let his words fill her mind in time with those falling from his lips; even with the anguish he was getting from her in return.

_Christ, talk about giving the girl abandonment issues – we seem to be batting a thousand,_ he thought to his absent host as he closed his eyes. If she'd been looking the other way for those few seconds maybe he could have played it off like he'd just tripped or something, saved her the fright of it.

"Come on, love…all that crying like that can't be good for the little ones, yeah? Okay…don't stop then…but drop it down a few notches for me, try to calm down a little for the tikes using you as a house at the moment…_that's_ it…" He soothed as she slowly downgraded the storm from unabashed bawling to shameless weeping.

After a few moments he realized she had no intention of relaxing her hold or calming down. He made a pact with Doyle's body, if it could withstand the long arduous trek across the sand (which was a pain in the ass to walk on under normal circumstances) and up the numerous stairs _whilst carrying Cordelia_ after what it had just been subjected to he'd get a massage or something while simultaneously drinking that fantastic scotch to make up for its trouble. Praying that it had been a sufficient bribe for the difficult task ahead he hoisted her up into his arms and set out.

The hotel staff rushed to them the instant they entered the building, frantically asking what had happened and what they could do to help. Funny thing about wealth, it had a way of bringing on all sorts of eagerness to render assistance. He'd told them to run ahead and get the elevator, that she'd be fine once she got upstairs; didn't waste his breath to offer an explanation for her current state. He told one of the men to fetch Luvisutto and they'd taken off like a shot, returning with him as the elevator doors opened.

"_You_ – come with me – we need to talk." Doyle said, watching horror instantly pass over the concierge's face at the possibility that somehow the hotel was to blame for her being so upset.

Luvisutto stepped in beside him, eyeing Cordelia fretfully as the doors slid shut and they began the trip up to the penthouse.

"No one can hear us in here, yeah? And before you answer trust me when I say this – I'll know if you're lying." He told him in a dangerous tone as he leaned against the wall and kissed Cordelia's temple. She was _still _crying. Was that even possible?

Luvisutto's face became deathly serious now as he realized this was a matter of security; it was the entire reason for the hotel's existence – providing a safe-haven for its guests was of the utmost importance. "No sir." He said with confidence.

"Good. Look, I got a pretty large enemy out there you've likely heard of. I drop their name and you know who they are you need to tell me the truth, like I said…" He looked over at him and let the blackness swirl in his eyes. "I'll _know_ if you're lying. I suppose I should stress to you that you've never catered to my kind; your shields don't effect me because there's never been an instance of something like me existing. True enough spells can't slip through your defenses to reach me but the shields can't prevent me from being violent within them like they can your other guests. It would take me inside of a minute to level this building if given a reason, do ya understand tha?"

Luvisutto's jaw flexed rhythmically at the news but he didn't speak his concerns, simply nodded his understanding.

"Wolfram & Hart, they pals of yours?" Doyle asked, simultaneously delving into the man's mind to read his reaction.

"No, sir; we are in no way affiliated with that law firm." He answered in a steady, certain tone. "We are aware of them because they have attempted to pursue our guests in the past."

Doyle smiled sensing the numerous consciousnesses inside Luvisutto's mind – he wasn't answering alone, he was answering on behalf of the entire staff and the hotel itself. "That's quite the company communications system you've got there."

"It keeps us running at the highest level of efficiency." Luvisutto said with a smile and inclined his head at the praise.

"Alright, so you know Wolfram & Hart and you've had bad experiences with them in the past. They couldn't get by your shields so they tried to have the police come onto your property and remove one of your guests, yeah?" He asked as he found someone in the web of minds recalling the incident.

Luvisutto nodded at the memory. "Correct, a rather unpleasant situation but one swiftly dealt with. Wolfram & Hart was made aware of our commitment to the protection of our guests, I assure you."

"I can see tha…" Doyle said with a distracted smile as his attention went to Cordelia once more. He sighed as he sensed her tiring from all the tears. "Down to business; they're the ones who made me what I am, thought to have me harm this beauty for their own agenda but I made plans of my own. Needless to say they're none too happy about it. They'll be coming for us soon; if I can prevent it I'll keep it from your doorstep…but she's…she's _everything_ to me…I need you to do whatever it takes to keep her safe." He left unsaid that it would only come to that if he was no longer able to do so himself, not knowing how much of their conversation Cordelia was actually hearing.

"She is linked to the Powers…" Luvisutto began in a new tone, more cut to the chase than his normal hospitable one. He clasped his hands behind his back as he continued. "It is in our interest to ascertain such information about guests as they cross our borders – it is invaluable in gauging their risk of attack. As such we have been reinforcing our shields since her arrival. Your comments regarding your recent creation explain why we were unable to establish the source of your power; we appreciate you taking us into your confidence." He dropped into silence for a moment as the decision was made. "Your request is granted, she is under the full protection of our power."

Doyle sighed and rested his head against the wall, nodding his thanks as the elevator doors opened.

"Anything she needs to comfort her please don't hesitate to ask; food, massage, spa treatments, stuffed animals, jewelry – I assure you we're equipped to handle whatever requests she makes." Luvisutto told him in that concierge voice, remaining in the elevator as Doyle stepped out into the suite.

"Thanks, for everything." Doyle said, inclining his head to the man before the doors closed and blocked him from view, leaving him to deal with one _seriously_ inbound Angel.

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	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

"What happened? Is she hurt?" Angel asked as he rushed to them, Cordelia's soft sobs had drawn him – the fact that he'd come around the corner and spotted Doyle carrying her had earned his undivided attention.

"Nothing physical, man, it's grief. Had a bit of a scare and it brought back some bad memories for her." Doyle said quietly but Angel continued to look (not touch, mind you) for himself to verify that everything was still attached and where it should be. "Just…give me a few to get her comfortable and I'll explain." He offered, waiting for Angel's eyes to meet his before giving him a meaningful look.

Angel hesitantly nodded, watching Doyle carry her into the bedroom as he paced impatiently outside the door.

She was drifting off to sleep already as he knelt on the bed and rested her on it; good thing, too – if she'd kept it up any longer he would have started worrying that she wasn't human after all. No being should be able to sob that hard for that long. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and slid his arms slowly out from beneath her, pulling off her shoes and tucking her in. As silently as possible he slipped out of the room and closed the door, pressing a finger to his lips and catching Angel's elbow as he walked them out onto the balcony.

"What's –?" Angel began but Doyle held up his hand, looking back into the suite and smiling as Wesley came stumbling out looking extremely disturbed.

"I feel the need to point out that the most acceptable means of drawing someone's presence is to call them…_aloud_." Wesley said in an unsteady voice. "Angel, would you be so kind as to ask him to refrain from shouting inside my head?" He whined.

"Oh stop, it was quieter and your response time was impeccable." Doyle said with a grin.

"Enough about that, what's going on with Cordelia?" Angel asked impatiently.

"She's fine – like I said she just had a scare that brought back a few memories. The real concern is what _gave_ her that scare." Doyle said as he leaned against the railing. "Found out the hard way what our friends at Wolfram & Hart are up to with those demons from Cordy's vision. They're trying to pull me back."

"Pull you back? What do you mean?" Wesley asked, his curiosity drawing him several steps closer.

"How can they do that? Didn't you say this place was under some kind of protection?" Angel asked.

"Yeah well we wandered a bit too far and left the shields…they're using a spell to summon my energy back to their building…and it's awful damned strong, I'll give it that much; had me halfway to their building before I even realized what was going on. I managed to get back in control and into Doyle's body again…but…" He explained and Angel's head slowly came up in realization.

"You left the body…and Cordelia…she thought…" Angel began and Doyle nodded.

"Apparently this thing doesn't function so well without anyone behind the wheel; I mean it folded faster than Doyle ever did in poker, that's for sure. Breathing, heart beating and what not it can do, walking and talking, not so much. When I got back I was in the sand with her holding me up…sufficed to say the experience was rough on her. She's reliving him dying in her head, man – it's not pretty in there at the moment. And that brings me to you…" He said, pointing at Wesley. "How close are we to getting him back inside where he belongs?"

"I'm sorry; did you mean to speak to me _aloud_ that time?" Wesley asked sarcastically, he quickly moved onto the answer though seeing the arched brow and scowl his comment earned. "I'm close to a crucial translation, by the morning we should know what it will take to accomplish the removal of the symbols and how to specify which are to remain." He explained.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest as he followed the evil's thoughts. "What are you planning?" He asked.

"Well they want me back and I'm guessing it's not to discuss the terms of my reinstatement. They can't get rid of me…so that leads me to believe they've brought in someone with a higher understanding of what I am. Cordy said red demons, four horns – there's a cult of demons matching that description out in Syria that worships evil, not a god or devil or being, just the energy of evil itself." He grinned. "_That's_ right, I've got me own cult…anyway, if they've brought these demons here it was for a lesson in the philosophy of evil. Unfortunately for us these guys are spot on so if they're talking Wolfram & Hart knows what it would take to turn me against you all."

Angel's body noticeably stiffened at that. "There's a way for them to change your desire?"

He shrugged. "I'm assuming – like I said, what else would they want me for? I can't tell for sure on account of leaving these shields puts me on a one-way trip to their doorstep but it's the only thing that makes sense. Don't worry yourself about it too much; I've a plan but it's on hold until Wesley's finished. There's no way in hell I'm going forward with it until you put Doyle back in the box, ya know? Just can't do that to Cordelia – leave this body lying in a bed like some coma patient. She's been through enough already." He said, hating the thought of what it would do to her to see anything _remotely_ resembling death in this body again.

"And if your plan doesn't work?" Angel asked in a grave tone. He watched his friend's face become equally severe.

"_Then nothing can protect her_." He whispered and found the tears he'd experienced welling up earlier were making their second appearance of the evening. With a clearing of his throat to ensure his voice would function properly he continued. "Just pray it doesn't come to tha, yeah? Listen, I should…" He pointed over his shoulder as speaking became more difficult. "Umm…" He trailed off and cursed under his breath, not noticing the look Angel shot Wesley.

"Oh, would you look at the time! If you'll excuse me; I'd better get back to the translation…" Wesley offered lamely before quickly making his exit.

Angel walked over beside the other man, now having a great level of difficulty not seeing him as Doyle. "We won't stand a chance, will we?" He asked, resting his arms on the railing and looking up at the moon. He let out an unnecessary breath as he recalled the last sunset he'd seen. Doyle had been there at his side then, offering support as he'd made the difficult decision to destroy the ring of Amara. Cordelia wasn't the only one replaying the night of his death in their mind, as always the memory cut deeply. It was difficult to deal with the possibility that they'd finally get him back, soul and all, only to lose him if this evil was turned against them.

Doyle, the evil operated one, leaned on the railing beside Angel, sighing and shaking his head. "No, man. It's hard to understand all the ways it hurts to know that…just the _idea_ of hurting her…and you, for whatever reason…" He said, giving Angel an appraising sidelong inspection. "Guess the bastard was awfully fond of you."

Angel suppressed his smile and nodded. "Well it was mutual." He said quietly.

"I'm telling you, if they'd consulted me beforehand and given me some warning about how confusing all this humanity business was going to be you can bet your ass I'd not have responded to that spell. And the really baffling part is I find myself wishing I hadn't just because by doing so I've put _Cordelia_ in danger. Where did all this noble, selfless stuff come from? I'm supposed to be _selfish_." He said bitterly. "I'm telling you, nothing'll make you long for oblivion quite like love and friendship, I'm finding."

With a smirk Angel nodded again. "_True_…but then again nothing will make you long for life like they will, either."

Doyle sighed. "Yeah, there is that pesky little detail. When I'm with her it's like nothing else exists, ya know? There's this peace that comes from her smile and her laugh…I don't want to lose that. Sure I'd rather his soul get in here and take care of all this emotion nonsense…but I want to be here for all the _fun_ stuff. Like her having those babies – there's this…" He scanned the memories for a word to put to the feeling and found it had to be defined with several. "Excitement and nervousness…and overwhelming joy and nagging worry…and it's all bundled together, man. It's so _strong_, I want to feel what it will be like for him to hold them and know they're his children. I want to be a _part_ of that."

Angel tilted his head to the side as he listened, seeing why Cordelia was so fond of this being.

"And if anything threatens her or the little ones I want to be inside telling him to take care of it, I want to give him strength to protect them beyond what he could do with just his body alone." The being rambled.

"So he'll retain your abilities if this works?" Angel asked thoughtfully.

"_Yeah_, man! It's a handy little side effect of retaining _me. _That's why I want to stay – you gotta put a good word in for me with him." He pleaded and Angel turned and looked at him, wondering if he knew Doyle had asked him to do the same once with Cordelia. "Everything he wants is what I'm here for; I'm _part_ of him now. He has to understand, how could I just leave when I want Cordelia to be happy, when I want you both to be safe? I mean I'm sure I'll be a royal pain in his ass but if Cordelia can keep me in line he ought be able to, right?"

Angel laughed. "Well, she is a bit more strong-willed than your average person…" He watched the hopefulness in his friend's eyes waiting for him to continue. "But I see your point…and I'll try to explain it to him." He agreed and watched that familiar grin form.

"Thanks, Angel. I really appreciate it." He said as he clapped him on the back. "This better work…this _has_ to work…I hate that there are so many things up in the air. I mean…" He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "If it doesn't, and if they manage to get a hold of me and change what I'm after there won't be any way to save her. It makes it hard to _breathe_ thinking about that possibility. I don't want to hurt her, man. I can't feel guilty for it but I can feel sadness, just the same. Like when I hurt her before…" He began and Angel felt his muscles going rigid, really not wanting to discuss the subject. "I mean I wasn't sorry, I didn't feel remorse and I still don't…but when I realized that my hurting Cordelia translated into _Cordelia_ _hurting_ it changed everything. Blocking out the ability to experience remorse doesn't do a damned thing for the _extreme_ displeasure that comes with the thought of her feeling pain. There are so many grey areas that Wolfram & Hart never bothered to consider. I don't want her to suffer; I don't want her to cry. I guess I understand now why Doyle never forced the issue of her and him getting together – he just wanted her to have whatever she decided was best for her, he wanted her to be happy even if it didn't include him at all." He let out a growl of frustration and gripped the railing. "I don't want another desire, Angel. I want _her_…and the second you get Doyle back inside I'm going to do what needs to be done to make that possible."

Angel reached out and put a hand on his friend's shoulder, gripping it as if keeping the being grounded. "Alright, alright..._soon_, okay? Do you remember when I said, 'if it gets to a point where we have no other choice'? Well this is that point. We can't risk them having you under their control; too many innocent lives would be lost without us being able to stop it. Once Doyle's soul is in place you have my blessing to take out the threat of Wolfram & Hart…but there are a lot of things we need to address before you go out there and start killing people."

He turned and cast a look over his shoulder at Angel. "The stuff Cordelia was too tired to get into last night, is it?"

Angel nodded. "We do this the right way and who knows? You might not suffer too badly when we remove the mark that prevents guilt." Angel said, casting him a pointed glance.

Understanding swept over Doyle's features, he'd forgotten about that part. He cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he was feeling. "_Guilt_…" He scoffed unconvincingly. "I mean…can it really as bad as all tha?" He asked with feigned skepticism but upon seeing the grave look on Angel's face he swallowed hard.

"You can't experience guilt for your own actions yet…but you _can_ explore other people's emotions, right?" Angel asked. His jaw flexed rhythmically as he watched Doyle slowly nod. "Then come on in. I'll give you a crash course." He turned to face him, waiting for the consciousness to reluctantly take the invitation. Even without Doyle's soul he had the same mannerisms, did that same twist of the mouth as he forced himself to do something he knew wouldn't be pleasant.

Hesitantly the energy wandered into the vampire's mind…_and was instantly plagued by more than a century of murder and the crushing remorse felt for each of the thousands of victims as they swept past. Their screams clawed at his skull, their faces brought on crushing pain to look upon, anguish weighed down on him for every single life that had been claimed… _

He cried out and retreated as quickly as he'd entered, stumbling backward and clutching his aching chest. "_Christ_, man! What in the hell _is_ all of tha?" He demanded in a strained voice as he struggled to slow his breathing, if he'd disliked fear he downright _hated_ what he'd just felt.

"Regret, guilt, remorse…so? What do you think?" Angel asked, the corner of his mouth turned in a smile watching the being's reaction.

"I think between Cordelia's grief and your guilt the two of you are trying to scare me off emotion, that's what I think." He grimaced and continued massaging his tense chest and stomach. "_Oh God_, how long until this stuff gets back _outta_ me?" He whined, finding that this particular brand of emotion lingered.

Angel laughed. "I don't know, not long I'm guessing…but if it had been your _own_ guilt? Your _own_ remorse for your _own_ actions? It never leaves. It might lessen eventually but once you do something you have to live with the consequences of that decision for the rest of your life…and from what I gather in your case you can't even count on death to escape it, that's the down side to being invulnerable _and_ immortal. For me a stake or a sunny day could take it all away – if we restore Doyle and he lives out his life until his eventual mortal death you'll remain to regret your choices."

"_Crash course, indeed_." Doyle griped under his breath as he scowled over at Angel. "So you've got my attention, are ya happy? Now how do we keep me from catching a serious case of the guilts?"

They made themselves comfortable for the next hour of discussion. Angel – being the expert on the subject – went over all the ways to keep this slaughter (if it worked, of course) as righteous and guilt-free as possible. He set the ground rules and explained his reasoning in depth, trying to fight off the realization that this was the way a conversation between himself and Angelus would go…if a lot less violently.

'But Angel, _why _can't we blow up the house with the entire family sleeping inside of it if it means taking out the guy we're after?'

Yeah. _That's_ what he was up against.

Angel was patient, though. He found the being was highly intelligent and willing to take the time to understand what it was told, didn't move on from an issue until it comprehended it completely. It was eager to learn more about the existence it was now a part of and how it ticked. Once all was said regarding the potential slaughter Angel noticed that the being was becoming restless and questioned why, he already knew but wanted to hear it for some reason.

"This might be it, man. This might be the last night I get to spend with her, ya know? Tomorrow all it'll take is Doyle saying I'm evicted or Wolfram & Hart saying I'm supposed to be hurting her and all of it will be gone…but I'm not ready to go yet. Doyle, he knew – he looked at the situation, made his decision and knew it was time – just _knew _it deep inside without a shadow of a doubt. Can you imagine tha? I'm not like him, I mean I am in so many ways but I'm not willing to face that this is the end." He said in a strained and quiet tone, after taking a deep breath he said barely audibly, "I'm _afraid_ of losing this existence, Angel…and something beyond _terrified_ of losing her." He took a few seconds after making that confession to gather his thoughts; finally giving a laugh that he hoped would break the somber mood and ease some of the tension in his stomach. "You must be thinking they picked a bad batch of evil to turn into a being, yeah? I don't make for such a good man."

Angel smiled lightly. "Actually you make a better man than most I've met in my life…but I'll attribute that to you using Doyle as a blueprint." He watched the being nod and smile. "So…with that 'bad batch of evil' statement…what if they're planning to turn another 'batch' into a consciousness?" Angel asked reluctantly.

The being shook its head and waved off the concern. "Not really a possibility – I just figured the thought may have crossed your mind. If they pour another batch of me into someone else I'll have more than one body to control. It's all a part of me, one energy – they just gave me thoughts and a central location is all."

Angel looked over at him thoughtfully. "So right now, out there…" he motioned all around them. "You're being used. Do you feel it?" He asked.

He nodded. "Yeah, the entire world is using my energy for their own devices as we speak, as they have since the dawn of time. You'd think they'd get bored of me." He said with a laugh.

"And what if you stopped letting them? What if you simply withdrew from the world?" Angel asked, it was a long shot and one not even worth voicing but he couldn't help it.

The being arched a brow and smirked. "Ah, Angel…if only it were that simple. You know as well as I do the need for balance, you're already telling yourself all the reasons why it would never work so I'll spare you the lecture by telling you you're right. How's tha?"

Angel smiled. "Fair enough. So Wolfram & Hart only had one shot to get you on their side and still didn't do enough research to make sure it would work to their favor." He mused.

"Guess so…unless of course they manage to go through with what they're up to and pull in the reins on me." He let out a long breath as those words weighed down on both of them. "Listen, Angel – if they do…and I…_ya know_…just know that if it were my own decision – as I am now, without any intervention – I wouldn't harm the two of you." He said quietly.

"I know." Angel whispered. "Why don't you go spend some time with her? Tomorrow is bound to be a long day."

"Yeah…I suppose you're right. G'night, bud…" He muttered, wandering into the suite and leaving Angel to stare out at the ocean and wonder what the next day would bring.

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	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

He crawled into bed beside Cordelia with no intention of sleeping, had meant to spend the entire night watching her peaceful face and holding her in his arms. Instead she looked up at him with those dark eyes of hers. "You're _supposed_ to be asleep." He chided with a smile, using her own words on her.

Cordelia frowned and curled up against his chest. "I was for a while." She whispered as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. She smiled up at him weakly. "But my mind and body won't do their thing without you in the room now; you spoiled them with all the cuddling." She said, using his words on him in turn.

He laughed softly as he held her close. "You have my deepest sympathies, princess. I can imagine how frustrating a thing like that must be." He teased. "Hey – got some good news for you. Wesley's onto something and said by the morning we should know how to put Doyle back where he belongs." He offered. "That's gotta cheer you up – I'm sure the two of you will have a lot to say to one another, yeah?"

Cordelia let out a long, choppy sigh at the possibility. "I miss him…_God_ I miss him." She said quietly. "You know…I was wondering about something…" She began.

"Uh-oh, that _can't_ be good." He joked as he ran his fingers through her hair and was grateful for the smile that came to her lips at his words.

"Just hear me out…if Doyle does decide to keep you as a part of him…will he…will he have _your_ memories, too?" She asked in a fretful tone and he tilted his head to the side trying to read her expression.

"You mean how it went with you and me when…" He trailed off. "What I did?" He asked and watched her nod. After taking a moment to think it through he continued. "I can block him from seeing anything you think would cause him pain, princess."

"Really?" She asked hopefully.

"_Really_. He'll wonder about how you came to be carrying his little ones so I'll leave the pleasant part for him to remember…was meant for him and no one else, anyway….but what came after, well we never have to burden him with it if that's what you're asking." He said as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Good…" She said and breathed a sigh of relief as she rested her head on his chest. "Somehow I don't think he'd be able to deal with that…even if it wasn't his decisionit was still his body. He'll be coming back with a clean conscience for the first time in _years_ because of his sacrifice; I don't want to ruin that with him immediately feeling guilty for something he wasn't even responsible for." She'd take it to her grave and knew Angel would never speak of it. It had been a horrible experience but one she endured and came out of with her dignity still intact – suffering through it had managed to show evil incarnate that there could be more to life than inflicting pain. It was worth it in her mind – a sacrifice of her own to bring Doyle home.

"Consider it done…that is of course if everything works out and I'm still…" _Did he want to get into what might happen if Wolfram & Hart got their claws into him? No. Best to leave it alone and not give her anything else to worry about. _"…around after he gets back, we'll just have to wait and see what he says."

"I think if anyone lets it slip that you'll give him the upper hand in playing cards he'll roll out the red carpet for you." Cordelia laughed. _God_ she missed his compulsive gambling…and his tragic fashion sense…and his whisky scent…and to think of all the times she'd ragged on him about those things. She felt a pang of guilt that this being was readily accepting the possibility that it might be willingly causing its own banishment and looked up into those blue eyes deeply. "You're taking a big risk here…" She whispered. "It's not like another body is going to be marked for you to use as a vessel tomorrow…this is a big deal." She didn't for one second worry that she was talking him out of it by bringing this up; he had already gone over all of this to reach his decision.

"I know." He sighed.

"And you're okay with that." She said as she rested her chin on his chest and gazed up at him.

"It's worth the risk, princess. I can't keep doing like I'm doing…it's not fair for you and not working for me. I have to admit even with becoming a part of his consciousness like I have I'm not sure what he'll decide and that's not a fun feeling. When he spotted me during your vision he looked less than happy to see me in his body so I can't say I'll be surprised if I get the boot…but d'ya know what?" He asked as he ran his fingers over her cheek and waited for the adorable 'hmm?' she gave. "Even if I get ousted and he moves back into the place without me as an unexpected roommate _you'll_ still be insanely happy. That's what makes it worth the possibility that I'll be incorporeal from here on out."

She smiled and shook her head. "Look what Doyle's done to evil." She said with a laugh.

"_Both_ of you, love. I'm blaming this on _both _of you." He said with an arched brow and smirk. A flash of mischief made an appearance in her eyes and he lifted his head to study it. "Oh now _tha_ is definitely gonna cost me more money…what are you thinking of, darling?" He asked with a laugh.

She crawled on top of him and kissed his lips sweetly. "That this might be the last night you get to feel what this body feels." She said with a sly smile. "And that since you're a part of Doyle it doesn't seem fair to me that you should miss out." She kissed him again as he pulled her down flush atop him. "So in case you're a part of him that's _outside_ his body come tomorrow we should make tonight memorable."

"Giving me a send-off, are you?" He teased.

"And a thank you." She said softly. "Because if you hadn't chosen to be part of Doyle's mind I'd be in a world of trouble right now…and I'd never get the chance to have him back."

He looked up at her in awe, pushing her hair over her shoulder and staring into her eyes. "Princess…" He breathed but she cut him off.

Clearing her throat and trying not to let her gratitude kill the mood she joked. "Plus, you know, I guess I should show my appreciation for you taking me out on that shopping spree…despite the fact that I _totally_ deserved it." She said flippantly before bursting out laughing as he rolled her over onto her back.

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	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

"How'd I just _know_ I was gonna end up on the end of a knife for this?" He whined and Angel smirked over at him.

"Well apparently Doyle was subjected to a far more rigorous ritualistic torture to bring you into…" Wesley began.

"_Alright_, let's just never mind the '_you owe him one_' trip – I get it, okay? I'm not complaining…I'm merely pointing out that I'd foreseen this, is all." He said and smiled at the incredulous look Cordelia gave him. "So how do you want me? Naked as a jaybird or what?" He asked as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I should say _not_." Wesley huffed in obvious distaste, eyeing the Irishman worriedly as if ensuring he intended to stop with just his torso being exposed.

"Hey, that's how this body was when I got it so I was just assuming." He said with a shrug and winked over at Cordelia noting that she hadn't been opposed to the idea. It was endlessly amusing to him how much she pondered Doyle's naked body and how it could be so attractive to her given what she'd always looked for in a man. "Right here?" He asked as he pointed at the circle drawn on the floor.

"Yes, you must lie within the symbols and not move beyond them no matter how agonizing this becomes…" Wesley said distractedly as he scanned a passage from his translations.

"Way to instill confidence in a fella…" He…_observed_…not complained. Right, because he wasn't whining that he was willingly lying down for a game of slice and dice. "You don't have shaky hands or none of tha, do ya? Cuz I gotta say I'm not sure I can guarantee your safety if I hear '_oops, let's try that cut again_'." He said skeptically.

Wesley gave him an appalled look. "Oh I'll not be doing the cutting, are you mad? I couldn't stomach such a thing. It will take a strong disregard for inflicting pain upon others, a level of skill in torture and depravity _far_ beyond the range of my morality." He said before turning to Angel and holding out the knife. "Here you are then."

Angel's mouth hung open for a second.

"Yeah…_thanks_, Wesley." He said dryly as he took the blade and wondered how he'd been nominated for this…_oh yeah_, all the reasons that had just been listed. "Cordelia, if you want to leave…" Angel offered but she shook her head.

"No, I'm fine. I want to stay." She insisted. "Just worry about him."

"You just make sure there's a clear path between you and the bathroom, princess. With those little ones wreaking havoc on your stomach already I'd be planning on a second showing of breakfast once this gets started." The evil told her, hoping to make her realize it wasn't going to be pleasant. She stood her ground so he sighed and turned to Angel, not sheltering her from the details of what was to come. "This may take a few goes so you'd best cut as deep as you can. All of the wounds will likely need to be opened at the same time and I heal in a _big_ hurry."

Cordelia hoped her wince at those instructions had gone unnoticed.

"Alright, you know the plan. If she gets his soul back inside then you need to be quiet until we can explain everything to him. This is going to be confusing enough for him without him dealing with you right away." Angel said and turned to Cordelia. "I hate to say it but explaining the whole 'I know there's evil inside of you but it's _friendly_ evil' situation will be on your shoulders at first – I get the feeling he'll want to be alone with you when he comes to."

Cordelia nodded, her stomach twisting itself in knots at the prospect of having Doyle back. She doubted much in the way of words was going to happen between them for a while; not with all the sobbing, hugging, kissing…

"Here, secure his wrists and ankles – I assure you he'll try to get away once this starts, just a natural reaction but one we can't afford. If he leaves the circle we'll have to start over." Wesley said as he pulled the chains over and made sure they were securely fastened to the thickest columns in the suite. "Let's just pray he doesn't bring down the roof." He said worriedly as Angel fastened the shackles.

"So, where am I cutting?" Angel asked as he got a firm grip on the knife and watched Doyle's body squirm a little at the insinuation of having that blade so close to his skin.

"_Oh_ the irony is not lost on me; I was just cutting up a steak like this an hour ago…" He breathed and closed his eyes. "_Poor steak_." He grumbled. "Which reminds me – Angel, don't you go getting hungry, either. You had something to eat already, yeah? I don't wanna be downgraded from torture victim to appetizer if that's alright with you."

Angel smirked. "It's going to be difficult to do this if you plan on cracking jokes the whole time."

"Never you worry, bud. I guarantee I'll lose my sense of humor in time with the first pint of blood." He assured and smiled listening to Angel trying not to laugh.

Wesley eyed them both indignantly. "I can't _believe_ the two of you are jesting about this…do you comprehend how painful it is going to be?" He asked and watched both of them turn and arch brows at him. "_Right_…well Angel, judging by the descriptions in the ritual I've drawn this sketch. It seems the first cut should be directly up the center of the stomach starting just below the navel, after which an incision shall be made at a downward angle from each shoulder, starting with the right…"

Cordelia's hand went to her stomach discretely as she wondered just how long it would take before she'd be racing from the room.

"My right or his right?" Angel asked calmly – not giving any outward indication of the fact that the directions made him cringe.

"_Lovely_." The evil inside Doyle griped. "Hey, I got a crazy idea; how about you just hand Angel your pretty little picture there and let me be surprised by what he slices, yeah?"

Wesley rolled his eyes and handed Angel the sketch, pointing out notes on the side. He muttered disheartening things like, "_and this one will need a bit more force behind it to ensure it severs_…"

"I swear to Christ I better earn some _serious_ points for going through with this. In fact someone get a camera, I want to record it so when he's deciding whether or not to throw me out he realizes I had a _choice_ in this." The evil complained. That's right, damn it – he was at the _complaining_ stage. Being on the receiving end of human pain was an experience he'd rather he'd never gotten the chance to take a part in. He found that talking eased the anxiety a bit, considering the mind and body were both telling him to get up and run for safety. Angel turned and looked at him, that overhanging forehead of his set in full brood. "Aw hell, ya've got yer game face on…and nah even the vamp one…hey, the accent gets worse when he's nervous…" He mused before swallowing hard. "Just get on with it before I change me mind and go enjoy the beach as a wonderful alternative to being hacked up."

He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, letting his last statement remind him of the _glorious_ bikinis Cordelia had bought and tried on for his viewing pleasure. That girl's legs went on for _miles_…just looking at them made a man want to –

"_CHRIST!_" He shrieked as the cutting began and was far too involved in the sensation of being gutted to notice that Cordelia had already raced from the room. He was sure there would have been a stream of obscenities and screams pouring from him if he hadn't been stricken completely speechless by the pain; couldn't muster so much as a whimper when he felt the upward cut connect with bone. He kept his eyes closed to prevent himself from losing his focus, tried to think about her smile, her kiss, the way they'd spent the previous night, the beauty mark on her cheek, _anything_ but the knife that was being thrust into him with vampiric strength.

Angel was definitely following his advice on making the cuts deep, any deeper and they'd be paying to repair the floor. He supposed he should be thankful for that – if they finished and he found that one of the wounds had closed a second too soon he didn't know if he'd be able to convince himself to do this a second time. Wesley was rambling in Latin, burning something in a bowl beside his head and smearing something across his brow as he struggled to stay conscious. The body seemed to think now was a good idea to shut down but he fought it, afraid if it went into sleep mode he'd lose his ability to control its reactions to the pain. One involuntary arm swing to get the agony to stop and he'd be right back to square one again.

After what felt like an eternity (but in actuality might have been a few minutes at the most) he felt tingling across his flesh and, had he the powers of speech, he might have let out a gleeful squeal that it was almost over. The tattoo over his sternum began to feel dense, like a piece of led weighing down on him and with a sensation similar to, oh say for instance, having your _flesh seared off_ it was dissolved. He twitched as it left him and felt a mark a few inches below his right shoulder (that must have been lying in two halves since it had been in the path of one of Angel's cuts) growing heavy and he tensed expectantly waiting for it to be removed.

The second it was gone he drew in a deep breath, thankful that he was able to since it meant his lungs were healed already. They don't hold air so well when they're in pieces, he'd learned.

Seemed that his body decided now was a good time to voice its protest to what had been done, though. For a few seconds every breath he took was immediately followed by an exhaled shriek of anguish. He could vaguely feel Angel's hands on his shoulders holding him down until the healing was finished; faintly heard him telling him that it was alright, that it was over, that he had to stay still for everything to go back to where it should be. He also thought he heard the distinct sound of Wesley racing off in search of the other bathroom and providing backup in the chorus of Cordelia's toilet singing.

"Holy mother of God…" He heard leaving his lips and struggled to open his eyes, they rolled around for a while before complying with his request that they focus on anything.

"It's over…it's alright…no more cutting…just a little bit longer…you're almost healed…" Angel was saying like a mantra to him in a voice that gave away exactly how disturbing the experience had been for him to cut up the body of his friend.

"_Oh…thanks_…" He breathed in a daze as he focused on the blood that was covering Angel's face. Once his hands were free he reached out and grasped Angel's forearm, closing his eyes for a moment before managing a weak smile and giving the same assurance back, "It's over, Angel…it's alright….you don't have to do any more cutting, bud…just a little bit longer…he's almost healed."

Angel forced a smile and nodded as his eyes welled up. Trying to make it less obvious that he was a wreck over what he'd just done he went back to watching the wounds closing. "You do heal fast…" He said in an effort to distract his mind. "Faster than me, even."

"Well I figured since you've got me beat in the height department I ought to have something going for me." He said in an exhausted but good humored tone, holding onto Angel's arm still as he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing.

Cordelia slowly wandered back out into the room when she heard his voice in something other than a shriek, wringing her hands nervously as she ventured close enough to see them. The amount of blood pooled on the floor and covering Angel and Doyle's body sent her right back to the bathroom, though.

"Let's never do that again, yeah?" He breathed and Angel laughed. It was a welcome sound in the wake of his own screams.

"Agreed." Angel said. "Looks like you're done." He observed, grabbing a towel and wiping enough of the blood away to be able to see that the skin was intact again.

"Ya know…" The evil began only to be cut short by a groan as he struggled to sit up and Angel helped him the rest of the way. "Maybe I ought to get a shower or something...have the staff come clean this mess up. We don't want your boy coming back and worrying he's died a second time."

"Take a shower as soon as there's a bathroom available, you mean." Angel said with a smirk wondering how long Wesley and Cordelia could keep it up for.

"Call Luvisutto, would ya?" He said as he leaned back against one of the columns. "Tell him to send some industrial maids up here with strong stomachs, he won't ask any questions. I got a feeling those bathrooms will be in use until all this is g – "

He stopped abruptly and Angel halted halfway to the phone, turning and finding that his features were twisted in pain. "What is it? What's wrong?" Angel asked as he rushed back to him and dropped down onto the floor beside him.

"_I_…_I_…" He stammered, staring up into Angel's eyes as tears formed in his own.

"_What?"_ Angel asked in a panic, terrified that somehow the spell had destroyed the ability for this body to heal completely from the wounds he'd inflicted. He frantically searched for a slice that had reopened, an injury that would result in them losing the only hope they had at getting Doyle back. He was positively _horrified_ at the possibility that he'd just _murdered_ Doyle…but his attention was quickly drawn back to the stricken face of his friend.

He gripped the front of Angel's shirt as if hanging on for dear life and stared up at him with a look of complete devastation. "I'm…so…_sorry_…" He managed in a choked whisper with tears now flowing down his cheeks freely.

Angel's face fell in realization; he recognized what was suddenly raging behind those blue eyes. _Guilt. _They'd removed the symbol to block it and he was now, all at once, being forced to endure remorse for every action he'd taken, every death he'd caused since he'd come into existence…and…

With a hand clamped over his mouth he managed to muffle her name as it fell from his lips but not much beyond that as he broke down.

"Oh God…" Angel breathed and gripped his shoulders. "It's okay…hey…it's alright. Cordelia's fine now. She's not…she isn't…I mean…just…just…" He gave up, not knowing what to say – there was nothing _to _say that could help – and turned to call over his shoulder. "_Cordelia!_" He screamed and immediately went back to trying to keep the being grounded in reality. He knew this torture, had been through it too many times – coming to consciousness with his soul restored after Angelus had his fun, knowing what he'd done to people he cared for, it was a maddening and crippling torment. "_Shh…shh_…hey, look at me…" He coaxed again and again but it wasn't helping. His voice gave away his desperation as he shouted for Cordelia the second time.

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	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

Cordelia had no idea what was wrong as she raced into the room but seeing A) _Angel screaming like a lunatic_ and B) _Doyle crying hysterically_ had her sliding in beside them on the floor without any care for the blood that was still present. Her mind was right where Angel's had been, fearing that Doyle's body hadn't been able to heal, that he was sitting here _dying_ and they'd have no way to stop it.

"Doyle…_Doyle!_" She shouted but he wouldn't respond. "What's wrong with him?" She asked fearfully as Angel relaxed his hold on his friend and let her move in closer to him. Her stomach twisted itself in knots when he recoiled at her touch, moving out of reach and covering his face as he sobbed. "What the hell _happened_?" She demanded as she turned to face Angel.

"He's…he…he has…a _conscience_ now, Cordy." Angel whispered and waited for understanding to pass over her features as to why that would suddenly make him not so keen on the idea of cuddling with her to make himself feel better.

She didn't know how she was supposed to respond to that.

He was feeling guilt for _hurting_ her, which he _should_ feel…all sanity and logic dictated that she should be gloating or something…but she wanted to tell him that it was alright, to comfort him and ease his suffering. It made her sympathize with him seeing the way he was reacting to what he had done, healed the wound in her mind somewhat as it became even more apparent that if Wolfram & Hart hadn't prevented him from having any sense of morality he never would have done those things to her.

_Screw sanity and logic_…

"Baby…_baby_…it's alright…shh…it's okay…" She soothed, pulling his hands away from his face and leaning down enough to look at him in case he ever intended to open his eyes. No such luck, she'd never seen anyone more grief-stricken in her life and it was breaking her heart.

"He's gonna be like this for a while…" Angel said in a daze as he watched his friend suffering through what he'd always assumed would be his fate alone. Then again he couldn't imagine how painful it would have been to have his soul restored and learn that he'd…done those things…to _Buffy_…

Cordelia looked over her shoulder at him fretfully; if anyone would know how long this would take it would be him. "Then help me get him to the bathroom at least. If we have to prop him up in the tub and point the showerhead at him while he keeps this up so I can get the blood off then so be it, I'll be damned if he's gonna stay like this." She said resolutely.

Each of them took up an arm around their shoulders; though if she was honest she wasn't really helping at all aside from the contact (which, might I add, was not being received well). Angel was doing all the work but was kind enough not to tell her she was only slowing him down. When they reached the bathroom Angel eased his friend down into the tub and took his leave, which pretty much meant he put a door between himself and them since he wasn't going anywhere out of earshot in case he was needed.

Cordelia tried not to let it hurt her that Doyle (even if it wasn't entirely _her Doyle_) was still wincing and recoiling from her, refusing to look at her and crying harder when she tried to comfort him. Apparently he was on board with that '_sanity and logic_' crap she'd already kicked to the curb, his remorse growing worse at the fact that she was trying to comfort him for grieving over what he'd done to her. She was so anxious to try and put Doyle's soul back in place but couldn't bring herself to think about it right then. This was a part of Doyle in front of her now and it was broken, hurting and in need of her help.

To say that he wasn't crazy about the idea of her trying to unfasten his pants would rank as the understatement of the _century_ so she abandoned the attempt, grumbling to herself about what this was going to do to the fabric and fishing his wallet out of his pocket before filling the tub. Oh and her stomach was _not_ happy once she started focusing on the task of washing away the caked blood, either. She tried to think of anything but the smell of it – which seemed to grow inconceivably stronger when it came in contact with the hot water. At least three different types of soap, aromatherapy bath salts and bath gels were employed in her desperate attempt to make the scent less nauseating to her already agitated stomach. She decided to name the resulting fragrance (as was her right as its creator) "_Parfume de Massacre_"; who knew – maybe she could sell the formula to vampires or something. Letting her mind muse on the enterprising possibility and not on the fact that she needed to drain the bloody water and refill the tub several times was the only thing that kept her from dry-heaving the entire course of the grueling job.

She drained the tub for the last time and put her hands on her hips as she stared down at him appraisingly and tried to decide what to do with him now, tapping her foot and chewing her bottom lip. Squeaky clean, no longer smelling like a slaughter victim but still inconsolably grief-stricken, clad in a sopping wet pair of pants; pants that he had _no_ intention of allowing her to remove. She scowled at that – just a half hour earlier he would have dropped drawers in the middle of the hotel lobby at the slightest indication of approval from her. Muttering under her breath she left the bathroom, nearly running into Angel as she exited on her way toward the bedroom.

"How is he?" Angel asked, though judging by the look in his eyes she knew he already was aware of the answer to his question.

Cordelia threw her hands up in the air and responded huffily. "Same…except now he's sitting in the tub, soaked to the bone, still wearing his pants and _completely_ opposed to his previous nudist tendencies. I'm gonna grab him something to wear and when I get back if you hear him screaming like a little girl in there _don't_ open the door. Come hell or high water I _will_ make that man get changed." She said determinedly before stalking off to get clean, dry clothes for him.

Angel watched her go and smirked to himself thinking how entertaining this memory would be for Doyle if it wasn't repressed by the evil (as he'd been informed others memories would be). He thought that one through, wondering if it would be possible for Cordelia's actions to be recalled without the explanation for what brought them on. Yeah, he could see a lot of questions arising from that one.

'_Angel, man…this is gonna sound odd…but just hear me out, yeah? Did Cordelia forcibly strip me down in a tub at some point for an unknown reason? And if so, do you think she's planning to do it again in the near future?_'

He could already see the hopeful grin on Doyle's face that would follow.

Cordelia returned with her shoulders thrown back, hair pulled up and head held high like she was marching into battle…and if the sounds filtering out of the bathroom after she slammed the door were any indication that's exactly what had come to pass.

She cleared her throat and fixed her hair as she opened the door a few moments later, smoothing her shirt and arching a brow at Angel's bemused expression. He peered around her and found that Doyle, if a bit disheveled, was in fact wearing the new clothes.

"I'm going to need Mr. '_Hands-Off_' in the bedroom if you would be kind enough to haul him in there for me." She turned and cast a glance at the sobbing man in the tub before continuing with, "and _trust_ me – if I have to do it myself I'll give him something _else_ to cry about." With an impatient sigh she swept past Angel and went to the bedroom to wait for them. She was growing steadily more frustrated with evil Doyle for his grief. So he felt bad, _big whoop_ – she was obviously over it so he needed to follow suit.

Angel entered a minute later and eased his hysterical friend down to sit on the bed, backing out of the room and closing the door before Cordelia dug in. He was truly curious as to what her approach would be; whether she was at all opposed to trying to _literally_ slap sense into the man. He doubted it.

"Alright…" Cordelia began as she walked over in front of him and crossed her arms over her chest. "This…" She motioned to all the sobbing he was doing, "Is _not_ making me happy. I thought that was supposed to be your whole shtick. Where's the fun guy with the Doyle sense of humor, huh? Where's the guy who calls me out on thinking his ass looks great and gets giddy if I make any mention of doctors? Where's the new part I accepted into my relationship with Doyle; the part that takes me on shopping sprees and treats me like royalty? He needs to get his ass back out here like _pronto_ because I'm not willing to date someone with an affinity for self-pity, damn it. Last time I checked my name wasn't Buffy."

She heard an indignant _'hey!'_ come from outside the door and glared over at it.

"Well it's _true,_ brood-boy!" She snapped to Angel before turning her tirade back on her intended target and stepping it up to full throttle. "I _get it_, you feel bad and guilt is no fun – it sucks severely and this is your first time dealing with it. You're hating yourself for what you did – got it, fine, have fun with that. BUT…do you see me over here all whiney about it or obsessing over it? _No_. Was it your fault? Partly, sure – and again _BUT_ – you didn't _ask_ to come into existence. You didn't _tell_ Wolfram & Hart to send you after me. You didn't _consent_ to them preventing you from experiencing the guilt that would have deterred you from doing what you did when you found me. So who do you think should really take the blame for it? Huh? I'll give you three guesses. You said you're '_all for the plan of being proactive'_, right? That's not true if you're just going to sit here and cry about it. You want to do something _productive_ about what happened? Then get up _off your ass_, get over this '_poor me_' trip and get _even!_ Turn it outward; take it out on the law firm of Psycho, Sicko and Sadist! Go kick supreme butt and it will make us _both_ feel better!"

Her screaming echoed through the suite with that final declaration.

Angel was out in the hall staring at the closed door in slack-jawed shock, wondering whether the next time he started feeling sorry for himself he should invite her over for a motivational speech like what he'd just heard.

Cordelia stood there, red faced with her fists clenched at her sides as she slowed her breathing. She hadn't realized how loud she'd been until she found that her own ears were ringing from the verbal assault she'd just unleashed. Another surprising development was that she'd been so involved in her rant she hadn't seen it slowly taking effect. He wasn't crying anymore…

Slowly his head came up, his puffy eyes staring up at her in confusion and she decided round two was in order.

"Look, you are _going_ to feel crappy about it – I'm sorry to have to inform you it's a part of being human – but that doesn't mean you get to curl up in the fetal position and throw yourself a never ending pity party. You just suck it up and soldier on – scan through Doyle's memories, would ya? He went through some seriously heavy stuff, none of which he ever informed _me_ of – which he'll be catching hell for when he gets back, by the way – but he didn't let that stop him from joking around and enjoying his time with us. Sure, he took the obligatory time to reflect on the sucky hand that life dealt him but he did it on his _own_ time, got it, buster? Not on _mine_. Why do you think the body you're in has such a taste for whisky? Drowning sorrows with booze sorta comes with the Doyle package. So occasionally, and I do mean _occasionally_, if you want to get hammered and feel bad about this you just go right ahead and convince Doyle to drink himself into a stupor – but don't be a black cloud that's going to follow me and Doyle around for the rest of our lives, we've all got our own drama to deal with. Occasionally opening up and commiserating – so long as he doesn't know about it? Fine, if you want to pop on into my head and get some comfort be my guest. Bawling unabashedly for a week on end? Making Doyle wonder what you could have _possibly_ done that would bring on so much grief? Not cool. Understand?" She asked and watched him slowly and cautiously nod. She let out a contented sigh that they were making progress and sat down beside him on the bed, noting that he didn't scurry away from the suddenly close proximity. "Now, just so we're clear here I _do_ _appreciate_ that you feel terrible about what happened. Seriously, I mean if you'd been given a conscience and not felt remorse for it I would have voted you out of that body faster than a fat guy on Survivor – but you _do_ feel sorry and it means a lot to me." Her features softened as she took his hand in hers. "So know that I forgive you, that I'm not holding it against you and that I want you to work on forgiving yourself for it, too."

He stared down at her hand and struggled to speak for a moment.

"I swear to _God_ if you start apologizing to me or crying again I'm going to _thoroughly_ kick your ass." She said with a smile and he looked at her in surprised amusement.

"No…I'm…" He began, shaking his head and trying to form words. "I just can't get over how amazing you are, is all." He breathed and she kissed his cheek.

"I know. I'm fantastic and every part of Doyle, you included, better never forget it." She said with a grin.

"Not a chance of tha – especially not with you around to constantly remind us." He said with a light smile. "So I'm just supposed to stuff all this back down then?" He asked in confusion.

Cordelia laughed. "Yeah, that's pretty much how it works. Let it vent a little here and there but focus on making things right instead of what you did wrong. You can't change the past. This really wise and badly dressed Irish guy once told me that he never looked back – maybe you should follow his plan, if not his fashion sense." She was thrilled to hear the soft laugh that came in response to that advice.

"So…" He breathed and she watched his jaw flexing as he clenched his teeth. "Speaking of that particular badly dressed Irish guy…I suppose it's about that time, huh princess?" He whispered and her heart leapt into her throat.

"Yeah…I think it is." She choked out, tears of happiness already forming in her eyes. "Just…let's just double check that it's okay…" She said, starting to stand from the bed before he pulled her back to him and guided her to sit in his lap. The look in his eyes caught her and she sat in silence for a moment trying to read him. "What's wrong?" She finally asked.

"It's just…this might be it, love." He said in a weak voice. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to face it if he sends me away. What if I never get to touch you again? What if the kiss that brings him back is our last?" He asked, a desperate look on his face at the realization that his time might really be up.

Cordelia shook her head slowly and ran her fingers through his hair. "I'll talk to him…as I'm sure you've noticed I'm pretty persuasive." She said with a smile. "_It's gonna be okay_." She soothed as he laid his head on her chest. She decided not to hold to her promise that she'd kick his ass for crying again since this was for a different reason and a whole lot less hysterical – the only indication she had this time around were the tears she could feel on her skin.

"Alright…" He finally breathed choppily and cleared his throat, sitting upright and smiling up at her weakly. "Let's go do this before I chicken out."

"You just let Angel use you like a prop in a Ginsu demonstration and _now_ you think you're going to chicken out?" She teased as she stood. "Leave it up to me – I'm sure I can handle Doyle." She said with a smile, those happy tears returning to her eyes at the thought of being able to do _anything_ with Doyle.

They exited the bedroom and found the living room area abuzz with maids. Seeing that the majority of the mess was already gone Cordelia arched a brow wondering just how often they had to clean up after gory rituals in such a friendly looking resort. Angel was watching them work and turned at the sound of the two approaching. Wesley was finally coming out of the bathroom across the suite looking a bit green around the gills, his hand pressed to his stomach and posture showing that he'd likely pulled every muscle in his body. They met up in the kitchen and you could feel the excitement in the air, the evil was drinking in all of the emotions of the moment – his own worry and anxiety, Cordelia and Angel's anticipation, hope and elation.

"We all set then?" He asked and looked over at Wesley for the go ahead.

"As much as I _loathe_ uttering these words…" Wesley began with a curled lip and motioned to Doyle's torso. "Let me have a look at your chest."

"See? I knew you'd warm up to me." He teased and Wesley huffed indignantly as he laughed and unbuttoned his shirt. "Ya know _Cordelia_ doesn't even ask me to take my clothes off as often as you do." He continued as he exposed the tattoos for inspection.

Wesley muttered under his breath in annoyance (something to the effect of how he found his broken sternum less torturous than enduring such statements) and picked a book up off the counter to match the symbols to their translations. Once he was finished a question formed in his mind and the instant it moved to his lips he stopped short, glaring at the Irishman and turning to Cordelia instead. "There are no other markings, correct?"

"She better check me over, head to toe and all tha just to be sure…" Evil Doyle said with a grin and Cordelia took his arm in hers, telling him she was happy to see he was feeling better and leading him off to the bedroom for an inspection.

"He's good." She announced as they returned to the kitchen a few minutes later.

"Can't argue with her there." He said with a wink as she rolled her eyes and smiled.

The maids had loaded up there supplies onto the elevator and taken their leave as quickly as they'd arrived, leaving the suite gleaming and without a trace of the horror it had been just a short while earlier.

"Then there should be no reason whatsoever to prevent Doyle's soul from returning to his body. You just have to…do…whatever it is you do to transfer it." He frowned slightly, looking back and forth between them. "A kiss is all? With Cordelia being pregnant one would assume you've already done as much." He thought aloud.

"The theory I was operating on was a moment of intense emotion would trigger it." The evil offered as he leaned on the counter. "Didn't work according to plan though…wait…" He said, his brows drawing together in confusion as he looked over at Angel. "_He just knew_…" He repeated from their earlier conversation as he thought it through. "Hang on a tick – I think I may have gotten it all wrong."

Cordelia arched a brow. "You? _Wrong_? Say it ain't so." She joked but it didn't mask her curiosity.

"When I was trying to get you to remember the emotion of the night he…passed the visions to you…" He said, sidestepping the word 'died'. "I figured if you were in the same state as you'd been then you'd let them go – but it wasn't _you_ who did the transferring so that's not what we should be trying to duplicate. It was Doyle, and he wasn't all panicked or afraid or nothing like that. Like I said, 'he just _knew'_. I can recall his frame of mind; he was completely calm about the decision, had this moment of clarity and when he kissed you – like 'I'm ready to do this but not before I get at least this one chance with her' – he just relaxed his hold on the visions. Can you feel it?" He asked as he stepped up in front of her, studying her eyes deeply. "It's this…" He closed his eyes for a second trying to describe it, "this _feeling_ in the back of your mind, like a warm pressure almost. That's where the power was for him, just hiding out in his skull like a transmitter for the Powers. Is it there for you?" He asked.

Cordelia tried to feel what he was talking about. "Like a headache that's getting ready to form and _does_ all too often." She finally said with a nod. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"That's it." He told her as he took her hand in his and drew her closer. "That's where it is, where _he_ is." He took a deep steadying breath, looking her in the eyes as they both tried not to let their anxiety show. "And this is where he needs to be." He whispered.

Angel watched the two almost unblinkingly as they gazed at one another, if he needed to breathe he would have been holding his breath in anticipation.

"I'm ready, love. Are you?" The evil whispered.

She closed her eyes, pushing aside everything else from her mind but the need to bring Doyle home. "I am." She said softly and draped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply and thinking of _her_ Doyle.

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	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

The kiss went on for several minutes and Angel didn't care that he was openly gawking at the couple, leaning forward expectantly and squinting as he searched for any hint that it was working. The thought had just formed in his mind that this wasn't going to be so easy when he saw it. A faint blue light, almost imperceptible if you didn't know what to look for. His chest tightened and knuckles went white as he gripped the counter and stared with wide, hopeful eyes for a sign…

Cordelia's sobbing into the suddenly frantic kiss was the first indication.

The way Doyle was now clinging to her and holding onto her like life itself was the next.

Happy tears streaming down both of their cheeks sealed the deal and the instant they pulled away to look into one another's astonished eyes they were being swept up into the hug of one extremely pleased vampire.

Wesley smiled watching the reunion, the three of them hanging onto each other, simultaneously laughing and weeping and staring at one another in amazement between embraces for the first ten minutes (even the ever stoic Angel, which he found a moving sight to behold). His 'allergies' were flaring – as he always lied when reduced to tears– and he pulled the handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his eyes. The task of keeping them dry was made all the more difficult by the muffled exclamations coming from the group of reunited friends that were pawing at one another in disbelief, as if making sure it was real.

Doyle: "Princess?"  
Cordy: "_Doyle!"_  
Doyle: "_Princess!_ It's really _you!_ You're here! _I'm_ here! Wait – _how_ am I here? Aw to hell with tha, I don't even care…"  
Cordy: "Oh my God, you're _back!_" *_scowls, punches arm furiously_*  
Doyle: "Ooww! Hey!"  
Cordy: "Don't you _**ever**_ leave me again! Do you hear me? You are on _**lock down**_, buddy."  
Doyle: *_rubs arm, smirks_* "I missed you, too, princess."  
Cordy: *_grins triumphantly, pounces, squeezes_* "I can't believe you're really _here_ – ooohh, I missed you _**so**_ much!"  
Angel: "Is it you? I mean…is it _**really**_ you?"  
Doyle: "Angel, man – I can't even tell you how good it is to see your ugly face."  
Angel: "Yeah, it's you alright." *_laughs_, _joins Cordelia in giving Doyle a crushing hug_*  
Doyle: *_laughing_*"If you two keep squeezing like tha you're liable to send me right back to the afterlife!"  
Angel: "Hey, give us a minute to adjust, will ya? We both thought we'd never get to see you again!"  
Doyle: "Usually an unfortunate side effect of death, bud. Though it'd seem you've made an exception outta me."  
Angel: "How do you feel?"  
Doyle: "Alive! Bit of a change after all tha deadness – like waking up from a really long dream."  
Cordy: "But no pain, right? You're not hurting or anything?"  
Doyle: "Well my _arm_ isn't – wait a second, love…is that blood? Are you alright? What _happened_?"  
Cordy: "Oh…guess I should have changed after the bath…umm…yeah…about that…it's not mine…"  
Doyle: "Then my sympathies to the other guy."  
Angel: "He'll be happy to hear that." *smirks*  
Doyle: *_looks around suite* _"Holy hell, I leave and you all move right on up, yeah?"

Wesley cleared his throat, drawing the Irishman's attention. "I'm pleased to see that you were resurrected successfully." He said with a smile but found it quickly faded as Doyle crossed the room toward him with Cordelia still latched onto his side and Angel sticking close behind him. He couldn't help but tense and flinch when Doyle grinned and reached a hand out to him, having flashbacks of his first encounter with the man.

"Thanks for anything you had to do with tha. It's a pleasure to meet you…" Doyle said cheerfully and Wesley visibly relaxed as he shook his hand.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce." He told him with a relieved smile. "And you are very welcome."

Cordelia grinned over at Wesley and he nodded to her, both of them of the same mind regarding the lack of a pipe to the sternum for this introduction.

Doyle, however, caught the look between them and felt his stomach tightening (in time with his grip on Wesley's hand) as it all came together in his mind. He looked around the suite again and back at the new face before it hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Quite the grip you've got there!" Wesley commented rather shrilly as his fingers were nearly broken and yanked his hand away the second Doyle had snapped out of it enough to release his hold.

"_Oh!_ Yeah, sorry – really sorry about tha." Doyle said, giving a weak smile as he grudgingly stepped away from Cordelia. "Just…getting used to having a body again and all I guess."

_Was he dense? How long had he been gone for? He didn't even know, could have been years. Had he really expected her to sit around and wish for him to come back? She was Cordelia – she wasn't the type to wallow in grief. _

The room felt like it was spinning. _So why had she been kissing him a second ago? _

_Because she'd have known it was the way to bring him back, that was why. Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, snooty bastard by the look of it and a __**Brit**__ to add insult to injury. The guy must be loaded – that's what Cordy was always after, should this really surprise him? No – but it felt like a knife to the back just the same._

He glanced down at her hand as she placed it on his forearm and nearly fell over seeing the 3 carat ring on her heart finger. _Not __**that**__ ring…that was the same damned ring __**he'd**__ picked for her…_

"Are you alright?" Cordelia asked worriedly and put her hand on his cheek to turn his face toward her.

_Didn't she know how badly this was hurting him?_ He struggled to breathe and nodded. "_Fine_, just…I'm fine…a lot to take in…a lot of questions…"

"Do you think he needs to eat? Like what you said about me with keeping up my blood sugar – do you think all of this might have been draining on his body? He looks pale…even paler than usual." Cordelia said to Wesley and Doyle felt nauseous just watching them look at one another.

_What business did this guy have offering her advice on her eating habits – or his, for that matter? Who the hell did he think he was?_

"I suppose it's possible. Enduring the ritual and then the – " Wesley began but Doyle cut him off.

"No. I'm fine. _Really_. I'm just…how long was I gone?" He asked as he stepped away from Cordelia again, not noting the confusion on her face as he did it.

"About seven months." Angel told him. "Hey, are you okay?" He asked, watching the look of devastation on his friend's face between the weak, forced smiles.

"Seven months…" Doyle breathed as he looked down at the floor. _Had he left a body behind it would barely be cold and she's already moved on and gotten herself engaged to some rich yutz. Death suddenly didn't seem so bleak, at least he'd left with the assumption that she'd felt something for him. _

"Perhaps it's time you two have that talk." Wesley told Cordelia pointedly.

Doyle felt like his knees were going to give out from beneath him. _Talk? What 'talk'? What horrible news was he about to get hit with? 'Wesley and I are getting married tomorrow and I thought it would be great to bring you back from the dead so you could walk me down the aisle and give me away. That's okay with you, isn't it?'_

"I think you're right, Wesley." Cordelia said with a nod as she frowned and watched the color completely draining from Doyle's face. "Come on, Doyle." She said as she hooked his arm with hers and led him away from the others.

He didn't look up until he heard the door close behind them and then it felt like he'd been punched in the gut. They were in the bedroom and judging by the overpriced man's wrist watch on one bedside table and Cordelia's brush and makeup bag on the other he'd just entered hostile territory. A corner of the room was stacked nearly ceiling-high with bags from an apparent day-long round of shopping and he winced – _he'd always wanted to do that for her, let her go out and just buy anything she fancied – maybe if he hadn't been such a worthless bastard he could have_.

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable, do _something_ other than look so dazed, would ya?" Cordelia said with a smile before kissing his cheek and crossing the room.

"I'm alright to stand." He lied as he looked back over at the ominous sight of the wrist watch on the bedside table; it lay there mocking him cruelly for his failure to attain the woman he loved, an agonizing testament to another man having the only thing worth living for in his eyes. The thought of _her_…and…_another man_…

'_Alright to stand'?_ He wasn't alright to _breathe_. _God, how could they bring him back when having Cordelia wasn't an option? How could they __**do**__ this to him?_ _Facing a life with her married to someone else was proving more painful than death – and he unfortunately had the experience to validate that claim._

"So…" He began, trying to get his mind to come up with something to say. Forming words, however, became completely impossible when he looked over to find where she'd gone just in time to see her pulling her shirt off over her head.

His eyes went wide and against all laws of masculinity he managed to turn his back to her.

_She just hadn't realized he looked over, that was all. _He told himself as he squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about the bra she was wearing. _Or she thought he wasn't going to pay it any attention, that it was no big deal. Bloody hell, when had he been designated the male friend it was alright to change in front of without fear of repercussions? How had he been demoted so severely?_

Cordelia stood, shirtless and bemused, watching his rigid back after he'd spun away. She'd forgotten that her changing in front of him was new and smirked at how adorable he was over there trying to be respectful even after he'd come back from the _dead_. With her smile widening she stepped into the bathroom and pulled off the rest of her clothes, hopping into the shower and leaving the door open so she could talk to him while she washed off.

When he heard the water turn on he had to reach out and steady himself with a hand on the wall, the knowledge that she was now not only shirtless but completely _nude_ and _showering_ behind him was something beyond cruel and unusual.

"So what was it like? I mean, while you were gone?" Cordelia called over the shower as she scrubbed off the stubborn remnants of blood.

"Umm…it's hazy…" He began in a strained voice, clearing his throat to find his powers of speech. "Like a dream, I only remember bits and pieces and they come and go, sometimes they're clear but the rest of the time there's just no memory." He called back.

"Huh. Well maybe you'll remember more as time goes on." Cordelia said thoughtfully.

_Hurry up and tell him._

"Tell who?" She called in confusion.

"What's tha?" Doyle asked.

"Didn't you just say something?" She asked.

_Not him, __**me**__. And I said to hurry up and tell him. _

"Oh shit…" She breathed as she realized exactly who was in her head.

* * *

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	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

Doyle covered his face and fought to voice the question. "You alright in there?" Bad thing to say, he knew; at the rate she was going she'd ask him to come lather her back and expect him to be okay with it.

_He's torturing himself; you do know that, don't you? He thinks you're engaged to Wesley._ The evil informed her and her jaw dropped.

"_What_?!" She demanded in shock.

"Princess?" Doyle called, now seriously hoping she was on a cell phone or something. His concern was pushing aside his inner turmoil.

"Umm…fine! I'm fine. Just give me a second." She shouted back to him.

_Can you hear me?_ She asked the evil in her mind.

_Clear as day. Don't mind me; his mind was getting all tense and devastated so I was just nosing around in your daydreams and such. By the way, we really need to try this one here…_the evil teased as he replayed something in her head and her jaw dropped.

_Quit it! That's private!_ She told him, though she found even her inner voice was laughing.

_Not according to what Doyle's doing there. _The evil quipped. _Quite the imagination you've got, princess. He's one lucky bastard – you better keep me around or try that out before I go, there's no way I'm missing that when it happens._

_Alright, you've made your point, I'm a perv – but no guy is ever supposed to see the inner workings of the female mind, damn it. _She laughed. _So he really thinks I'm with Wesley? _She asked in surprise.

_**Which**__ reminds me, maybe if he saw __**this**__ he'd understand why that'd never happen. _The evil said, replaying her memory of the horribly awkward and drool-ridden kiss she'd had with Wesley back on the day of her graduation.

"Eeww!!!" Cordelia squealed in disgust and shook her head trying to make the memory go away.

"_Delia?_" Doyle called worriedly, hating that her outbursts had drawn him to the bathroom door.

"Fine! I'm fine! There's…a _bug_…I got it, though." She said unconvincingly.

_Alright, that was so not cool. Some things should be very clearly labeled as __**repressed**__ in there so stay out of them. _She whined. _Why does he think I'm with drool boy, anyway?_

_Ritzy suite, new guy with a snooty accent, you love money and he doesn't think he has any of his own. Figures this guy is the one who put that rock on your finger and thinks it's just his horrible luck that it's the same ring he picked for you. Was actually worrying you'd brought him back to give you away at the wedding or something. _The evil explained as it continued nosing around in her head.

Cordelia was hard pressed not to let an _'aww!'_ fall from her lips; she couldn't keep it out of her mind though. _Aww! Oh my God, poor Doyle! Alright, that does it. I'm clearing this up right now._ She told the evil as she shut off the water.

Doyle quickly took several steps out of eyeshot of the bathroom door lest he see something he'd never be able to stop replaying in his mind. She entered the room wrapped in a towel and he involuntarily sank down into a chair as his legs gave out from beneath him, trying to keep his eyes on anything but her.

"Doyle, why do you think you're back?" She asked as she pulled on a tank top and shorts, still finding it adorable how he turned away from her the second she dropped the towel.

"Umm…" He began, fidgeting awkwardly in the chair and fighting to think clearly, rubbing his eyes as an excuse to keep them closed. _He was back. Right. As in __**no longer dead**__. As in how the blazing hell could she expect him not to react to her being nude fifteen feet away from him?_ He looked up when he felt her hand on his arm and his eyes widened in shock as she climbed up and straddled his lap on the chair. _Well…that was certainly new…_

"Doyle, I'm not with Wesley." She said slowly and clearly.

"Oh…" He breathed in relief, only to try and cover it up a second later. "Who was wondering tha?" He asked guiltily and she arched a brow and smirked at him.

"Your body was back before your soul was. I know that sounds odd but it's true. You've been alive for over a month and…" She pressed his hand to her bare stomach. "Tell me if you notice anything here."

He struggled to swallow as he dealt with her not only straddling him but now guiding him to touch her. "You mean you want me to think of something _aside_ from the fact that I've got my hand on you?" He asked in disbelief, knowing if she kept this up much longer there'd be no hiding how…_intriguing_…he found her current position atop him to be.

"Yes." She insisted with a laugh.

"What exactly is it you…" He began and she cut him off.

"Go demon face." She told him and he stared up at her in confusion.

"Why the hell would you want to see tha?" He asked.

"Because, as it turns out, it _is_ a face I love and besides, because _I said so_." She said determinedly.

"I'm…well…" He stared at the resolute expression on her face and finally complied. "Ya know I only showed you this cuz I thought I'd never have to deal with doing it again." He confessed. "I'm not really of a mind to wear this on a regular…" He stopped short, his red eyes widening in surprise and looking down at where his hand was pressing against her stomach. "_You're_…" He whispered, but again fear gripped him. "Who?" He asked in a strained voice, looking back up at her slowly and swallowing hard.

"Weren't you listening? Fine, look closer, see if you recognize anything." She said with a smile.

He tilted his head to the side in puzzlement, looking back down at her stomach and not understanding what she meant until…again those red eyes widened in shock. He could sense the Brachen blood in them; feel that the two lives deep inside of her were kin to him. He pulled his hand away quickly, his face changing back to human and he stared at her unblinkingly for several seconds before the stammering started. "What…how…can…when…?"

Cordelia smirked. "We figured you'd wonder that. Hang on, I'll ask for it to be made a little clearer for you."

_Done and done. _The evil told her as it relaxed its block on the memory in question.

Doyle's eyes closed as he leaned back on the chair with considerably less force then when a vision took him, his expression was decidedly more pleasant, too. A choppy sigh left him as he opened his eyes a minute later and struggled to focus on her. "Wait…so _you and I_…you mean to tell me that _we_…that _really_ happened? And _you're_…but how?" He trailed off a second later, his body relaxing slowly and the most honest smile she'd ever seen coming to his lips. He didn't care about the 'how' he realized; all that mattered was that it was real.

Cordelia grinned down at him as he reached up and caressed her cheek with his hand lovingly. "That's right. You and I are _together_, I'm madly in love with you, you're madly in love with me, I'm pregnant and you're gonna be the father of twins." She leaned down and kissed him sweetly. "So yeah, welcome home."

"_Quite_ the welcome, that's for sure. Ya don't mind that I'll likely never get this grin off my face, do ya?" He asked with a laugh as tears formed in his eyes and Cordelia shook her head.

"Somehow I think I can live with that, turns out I missed your dimples." She told him as she nuzzled her face under his chin and cried happily.

He held onto her tightly, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to let it all sink in.

_Cordelia was his. Cordelia was finally __**really**__ his. She knew the demon inside and was way beyond just willing to go to dinner with him. She actually loved him. __**Madly**__. She'd said it. He hadn't imagined it. She'd apparently already given herself to him. She'd never given herself to anyone else. The honor of that alone was staggering to him. He replayed the memory of it again and let out a choppy sigh knowing it was real._

_She was carrying his children. __**Two**__ children. Twins. He was going to be a father. He was really, truly, finally, __**actually**__ going to be a __**father**__. And the thought of it wasn't as terrifying as it once had been. How demonic could his children be when in his eyes their mother was the closest thing to an angel in existence? _

Cordelia loved the way he was holding her so close, kissing her forehead as he marveled over his luck. With what she'd heard from Harri and Angel she had to guess this whole impending fatherhood thing was every bit as exciting for him as the fact that he was alive again and finally with her. Any guy who willingly teaches third graders has to have a deep love for kids. He'd apparently been thrilled at the prospect of having his own but swore it off the second his demon heritage became known. He'd been unwilling to pass what he hated in himself onto innocent children just for the sake of having them, had refused to inflict the same torment on them that he'd gone through.

But this was different. Their children would know about their heritage and would have their father present to help them understand it, it wouldn't be a shock for them when it presented – they'd never feel shame for what they were, Cordelia wouldn't allow it. The image of Doyle carrying a kid under each arm brought a grin to her face and she cuddled closer to him. "You're gonna make a great dad." She whispered and his chest rose and fell in a deep, staggered breath hearing those words.

"Didn't think I'd ever get the chance to find that out, princess." He said in a strained voice. "Didn't think I'd get the chance for any of this, for that matter…my head's still reeling from that little memory you sprung on me." He confessed with a laugh. "Last time I saw you I was worrying you might not humor a dying man's last wish for a kiss and now I find we've got _little ones_ on the way. Boggles the mind a bit."

"You know…I'm supposed to be explaining everything to you…" She said as she grinned up at him.

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming." He said, leaning back to examine the look on her face.

She brought it in for a closer inspection, kissing him deeply and smiling as he moaned in surprise. "But it occurs to me that aside from a memory you've never been with the woman who's carrying your children…_sooo_…" She said softly as she watched him struggling to open his eyes.

"Don't have to tell me twice, love." He whispered, standing from the chair with her still wrapped around him and carrying her to the bed.

There was something new in the way he touched her, a definite difference in his kiss now. Every breath she took was like inhaling the love that he had for her, she'd thought it was fantastic before but this was _immeasurably_ better.

The evil decided not to take those thoughts personally.

Doyle had worshipped her since the first day he saw her and made no qualms about that fact now that he was finally getting his chance with her. She didn't know it was possible to become so hopelessly enraptured so quickly, or that hours could pass by without a single care in the world beyond the man in her arms. She never wanted to let him go again, even when they were both lying blissfully exhausted and entangled with one another she was still craving more of his affections.

He'd made it a mission to kiss every inch of her which sent her back and forth between grinning and moaning. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes he'd explored and even learned every ticklish spot she possessed in the process. She was _his_, every single part and he had attentively taken his time to properly introduce himself to each one individually.

And the things he whispered to her, how beautiful she was and how much he loved and adored her, how he _had_ never and _could_ never want anything more than he wanted her, how he would never take a second for granted so long as they were together…they bound her to him more than any ring could ever hope to.

As they drifted off to sleep with the sun setting outside the window she supposed Angel and Wesley might be wondering how the discussion had gone, but then again she figured they must have been prepared for the likelihood of her and Doyle not leaving the bedroom for a few days.

* * *

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	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

_Blood. So much blood. __**Too**__ much blood._

He tossed restlessly as it played out in his mind.

_Candle light…a knife…anguish…chanting…tattooed symbols…_

_Cordelia was there…but not…he felt that same old pain, knew this was a vision…_

_She was watching it happen in blind panic. _

_They were making him wrong, he knew. _

_Making him something she needed to stay away from. _

_Something dangerous..._

_He pushed her away, she needed to get away…he tried to tell her…prayed she'd gotten the message…_

_Grief. Elation. Love. _

_It wasn't right. __**He**__ wasn't right. _

_She didn't understand. She hadn't listened. _

_She needed to run. She wasn't safe._

_She wasn't listening. Why wasn't she __**listening**__?_

_Pain. Fear. Betrayal. _

_Flashes came, flailing hands and a tattooed chest, eyes…his own eyes…a smile on his own lips…_

_Violation. Outrage. Terror._

_He heard breathing, screaming, felt her horror. _

_A fragmented memory…not his memory… one wrought with emotion, confusingly disjointed as it replayed. _

_Another vision, pain he recognized all too well but no images were present this time…_

_Something was different…someone was here with them…_

_There was a man standing beside Cordelia in the foggy white realm, both of them screaming in agony._

_He recognized on some level this place had been his home while he was lost. _

_He stared at the man in disbelief as he turned to face him, saw it was himself, saw the surprise in his own anguished face. _

With a gasp he sat upright in the bed, knocking Cordelia off his chest as he went and instantly turning to face her as she woke up. He pulled the covers aside, checking her over for injuries he might have missed, his wild and frantic eyes searching for any trace of what his dream had eluded to.

"Doyle? What's wrong?" She asked in a groggy voice.

He wasn't listening though, she'd been hurt. He knew it was true. He couldn't find any signs of it but he just _knew_ it. He looked down at his chest and for the first time paid attention to the marks there, suddenly having a difficult time breathing as he recalled the image of them in front of her face.

"Doyle? _Doyle!_" She said, reaching out and shaking his shoulders.

"What was done to you?" He asked in a panicked voice.

Her brows drew together in confusion. "What do you mean? I've been sleeping right here, I'm fine. Did you have a nightmare?"

"No. I had a _memory_. What was_ done_ to you, Cordy?" He asked determinedly.

Her heart skipped a beat. "_What?_" She whispered weakly.

_No. This isn't happening. This can't be happening._ _Can you hear me??? _She screamed to the evil in her mind.

_I'm here. _He said back worriedly.

_How does he know? __**What**__ does he know?_ She pleaded.

_He's having dreams…but they're not my memories, princess…they're yours and his. _The evil told her softly. _I can't keep from him what's not mine. _

_How much does he know?_ She demanded.

_That he came back wrong and he's fairly sure he hurt you in some way…he's got a good idea of what way that may have been. _He said regretfully. _It's up to you what we do now. I know you don't want to lie to him, it's okay. _

_But he'll never understand! He'll blame himself and definitely blame you! He'll make you leave! _She told him.

_I know – it's your call, love. Whatever way you go I'm with you, I'll be here watching over you. Do what feels right. _He offered, though he knew it was little help.

"You **know** what I'm asking." Doyle said, his tearful eyes burning into hers.

"Doyle…it's not important, okay?" She tried. "You're back."

Her words stole his breath. He was _right_.

"What do you mean 'it's not important'?" He demanded. "Did I or didn't I…?" He asked, unable to stomach the words.

"_You_ didn't do anything." She answered honestly.

He studied her eyes, hating what was being left unsaid. "I think you'd better explain to me just what the hell happened in the month I was back before _really_ being back."

She reached out for his hand and he didn't move to reciprocate the gesture, his eyes locked on hers intensely. "You…" She let out a long sigh. "Your body was brought back by Wolfram & Hart." She whispered and watched his muscles go rigid knowing how bad that was. "They gave the energy of evil its own consciousness and used you as its vessel. They wanted to make sure you and I conceived these babies. They sent the evil to find me, wanted me to let go of the visions, too – blocked your soul from entering your body so that if I released it the link to the Powers would be severed…"

Doyle's jaw was flexing as he looked down at his own hands in outrage. "So the memory you gave me earlier, what was tha? Some invention to sugar coat what really happened? Thought to keep it all sunshine for me, yeah?" He asked, his stomach turning and the room spinning in his perception.

"_No!_ That really happened. It was perfect, other than your soul not being there at that point but I didn't know that. It was real, Doyle. I swear. It was gentle and sweet and since I thought it was you it was everything I hoped for." She said, trying not to let her voice break as she cried.

"And after?" He whispered.

"Doyle…" She breathed, giving him a pleading look as his eyes burned into hers.

"_And __**after**__?_" He repeated through a clenched jaw, closing his eyes and trying to stay calm for her sake.

"It didn't mean it, Doyle." She whispered.

His jaw dropped and he stood from the bed. "_What?_" He demanded. "What the hell do you mean, '_it didn't mean it_'?"

"You're too upset…you're not going to listen to me." She said, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her cheeks. This wasn't going at all like she'd planned.

He stared at her in disbelief. "I'm '_too upset'_? Cordy, I'm finding out that evil _body-jacked_ me and used me to _rape_ you!" He said angrily, finding that saying the words aloud made his legs feel like rubber. He gripped the bedpost to keep himself upright as the echo of that declaration seemed to go on for hours.

Cordelia stared down at the bed in shock, realizing that _no one_ – not the evil, not her, not Angel – had ever actually said the _word_ before.

Doyle struggled to speak as his heart broke inside his chest. "Now you're trying to tell me '_it didn't mean it_'? You're damned right I'm upset! How am I supposed to feel about this? _Oh God_…" He breathed, suddenly feeling guilty for being excited about her pregnancy. The news seemed to be tainted somehow _– those babies had been __**forced**__ on her_…

"You won't listen." She whispered, still staring down at the bed as she cried. "You weren't supposed to have to hear about it. I wasn't going to tell you…I didn't want you to know…I knew you'd just blame yourself."

"_Delia!_" He cried out and stared at her in shock. "How could you possibly be thinking of _me_ after what was done to you? This is about _you_, love. _Oh God!_" He breathed again as he clamped a hand over his mouth and stepped away from the bed, feeling disgust for the fact that he'd just laid with her. _He didn't have the right to. How could he even touch her now? If he'd known before_…

"The evil _changed_ because of what happened, Doyle…if it hadn't happened you wouldn't be here. The evil saved my life, it took me away to protect me and it saved Angel, too. But it doesn't matter because you won't care." She sniffled, her voice finally breaking as she started to sob. "It wasn't supposed to be like this! I'm no good at this – I'm not saying the right things. I'm not explaining it right. You won't be able to understand!"

Doyle stared at her with pained eyes, wanting to go to her and comfort her but at the same time sickened by the thought of touching her; he didn't trust his own body to be near her. If he'd hated himself for his demon blood this was something way beyond hate. "What won't I understand, love?" He finally asked softly, seeing her like this was wounding him as deeply as the knowledge of what had been done.

"It didn't have a conscience when that happened, was just doing what Wolfram & Hart sent it to do. They kept it from experiencing guilt and it couldn't feel on its own that hurting me was wrong…but then it started listening to your mind, to your thoughts and your feelings. It didn't understand what love was until it felt the way you felt for me. The more it listened to you the more it hated what it had done, started getting desperate to make it right. Then Wolfram & Hart told it that they were coming to take me – they were going to keep me until the babies were born and then **kill** **me**. They just wanted the babies, Doyle. They _still_ do. They're still coming for me." She sobbed and Doyle's jaw flexed at the news, fear for the safety of her and the unborn children gripping him now on top of all the other emotions.

"It couldn't stand the idea of them hurting me or taking the babies because, like it or not, it's a part of _you_. It killed every one of the guys that came to take me, hid me from Wolfram & Hart and took care of me. It didn't ask to be brought here but it was, so it did what you would want since it didn't have any idea how to exist without an individual to shape it. It protected me because you wanted to. In the beginning it was _Wolfram & Hart's_ evil…_that's_ what hurt me. It's not theirs anymore. It's _your_ evil now...the evil that saved me. It has the ability to take out Wolfram & Hart inside of five minutes, offered to do it for me. Asked me to just say the word and it would wipe that law firm and everyone associated with it right off the face of the earth – but it didn't, only because I asked it not to. It spoiled me the way _you wanted _to. This ring?" She asked as she held up her finger. "I know you recognize it. It gave it to me because _you wanted_ me to have it. It took me shopping like _you wanted_ to. It brought me to this resort like _you wanted_ to."

Doyle looked around the room in realization. He'd thought the architecture seemed familiar, now he was recognizing it from the brochures.

"It saved Angel when he was about to get killed. Like _really_ killed, Doyle. Like I would have lost _both_ of you. It stopped it from happening because your mind and body told it to protect your friend. It didn't have to. Just like it didn't have to save me – it only did it because it's part of you. Angel and Wesley are only here because after it saved them it wanted them close enough to protect them, too. And do you know what else? You're only back because it _asked_ to have you back and consented to the ritual to accomplish it. It's too powerful for anyone to fight – if it had said no we wouldn't have been able to do a thing. I wouldn't have you here with me if it wasn't for the evil. Angel had to cut your body up, _gut you_ with it inside feeling the pain in order to let your soul in but it did it willingly."

Doyle's hand involuntarily went to his stomach at that news, ensuring that everything was where it should be and wondering how that was even possible.

"And do you know _why_ it suffered through that with a choice in the matter?" She asked in disbelief. "Because it said it needs your soul to balance it or it has no place in this world, it agreed that it would be your decision to keep it or throw it out because having you back would make _me_ happy. _That's_ what happened to evil when it spent a month inside of your head, when it experienced what you and I feel for each other. And after the mark that blocked guilt was removed it was a _wreck_ over what it did to me_. _It cried for over an hour before I managed to bring it back. It doesn't want to hurt me, Doyle. It's part of you now, can't you see? You're just like it – it's just like you. You both have the same theory over who's responsible for what was done to me."

Doyle was staring at her still, trying to take all this in, trying for her sake to 'understand' since she'd sworn he'd be unable to. "So it blamed itself, then?" He asked with rage burning brightly in his eyes, finding that to be completely reasonable. "It damned well should have! I can't _believe_…" He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to keep his anger in check – he couldn't scream to her about it even to vent. No matter how much this was killing him it wasn't fair to her for him to keep raising his voice, not with what she'd been through.

"Yes, it blames itself! And I'll tell you like I told it – blame Wolfram & Hart! What is _wrong_ with you? No _wonder_ it went all self-hating, it was taking its cues from _you!_ Wolfram & Hart sent it after me but you both are going to blame the bullet and the gun instead of the law firm of scumbags who pulled the trigger!" She said in disbelief, her tears receding as anger boiled up inside of her.

"Wait, you said it would be my decision to throw it out…but I haven't been asked to make…" His head slowly came up in realization. "Princess, why are you talking about it like it's still _here_?" He asked worriedly.

"I'm talking about your evil like it's here because it _IS_ here. When I was in the shower it told me I needed to hurry up and explain what was going on because you were hurting, that you thought I was engaged to Wesley…when you woke up I asked it what was wrong with you – it told me you had memories of what had happened and told me not to lie to you for its sake…"

Doyle's eyes widened in shock at the revelation that he had a squatter in his head divulging his inner thoughts to Cordelia without his knowledge. "_What?!_" He cried out.

"_That's_ right. It can talk to me; it's inside of you right now waiting to see what you decide. More importantly? It was willing to advise me to tell you the truth if I wanted to even if it meant it would get an automatic eviction from your body for it. _You_ shaped it into that. _Your_ thoughts and memories taught it to be selfless and caring. It has the power to protect all of us from threats anywhere in the world and yet it's still listening to what _you_ want. Think about that. There's power inside of you right now beyond anything you could even imagine and the only thing it wants is _to be a part of you_." She said, glaring over at him and watching him shift under her gaze.

"So…it…and…" He stammered. "Why would it want to do any of this? Why would it want me back at all?" He asked. "What's it standing to gain from having me around?"

"Your free will, it needs you to tell it when it can and can't be used. It needs you as a balance. I'm getting tired of explaining this but evil is just the motivation to fulfill a person's desires, not the desires themselves. It's not meant to live a life on its own, it's meant to be a part of an individual. It wants you to guide it, to make choices and decide what it's allowed to do." She shook her head and stared at him in disbelief. "You know this is un-_freaking_-believable! I finally get you back and inside of the first few _hours_ you suddenly don't want to be near me!" She snapped.

His face fell hearing that. "Delia, that's _not_…" He tried but she cut him off.

"The damned evil did the same thing when it felt guilt for what happened; didn't want to touch me, didn't want me to comfort it. Well what about _**me**_? What about what _I want_? I'm the one that it was done to – don't I get a say in who's allowed to touch who afterward?" She demanded. "I'm not as irrational about the subject as you and your stupid evil seem to be – I know who's to blame and you both need to get on board. You're making _me_ feel bad about what happened and it's _not fair!_"

Doyle's jaw dropped and he slowly made his way back to her side on the bed, putting his arm around her and speaking softly. "Princess…no one's trying to make you feel bad about it, it's just…I would _never_…and I can't _stand_ that you were…and that I was used to…" He tried.

"Well _get over it!_" She snapped and he stared at her in surprise as she spun to face him. "_Both_ of you! I need you and I've got enough on my plate without worrying about you blaming yourself for something beyond your control. You think the past few minutes of your life have been tough to deal with? Well let me give you the highlights of _my_ _life_ in the past few months: I fell for you and then the same night we decided to date I had to stand there and watch you _die_, only got to grieve for you for a little over a week before I had some sniveling demon bust my face up, kidnap me, put me on auction and try to _cut my eyes_ _out _for those nifty little visions you left me. I got attacked oh, a _hundred_ times, had a seriously psycho vampire slayer rearrange my face, had this slut actress slip Angel a happy pill and turn him into Angelus who then tried to _kill_ me and Wesley – oh, but not until after he'd told me that _my_ _acting sucks!_ I had a demon open my head up to a never ending vision of every person suffering in the world which put me in the _psych ward_ screaming like a _lunatic_ for two days. A week later evil showed up rocking _your _body and being a total asshole before getting his head straight, I had to coach him through humanity and grief like a freaking toddler, _finally got you back_ in your entirety figuring it would be smooth sailing from here on out but now _you're_ being a dumbass, too!"

Doyle's eyes had been growing steadily wider with each revelation but he kept his silence, marveling partly at all that she'd been through – partly that she had yet to stop for air.

"Well I'm _sick_ of hearing about how the two of you _feel_ for what happened, got it? If you want to feel guilty do it together quietly! I've got two – count'em – _**TWO**_ buns in the oven, morning sickness, a law firm from hell that wants to murder me and I just don't have time for your remorse _crap_. If it's alright with you I'd like to be floating around on cloud nine that you're alive! I want to spend an entire week in bed cuddling with you and talking about baby names and guessing their sexes and other cute stuff like that! I want you to tell me again that you think my _toes_ are adorable! I want you to kiss my nose and call me 'love'!"

Doyle couldn't help but smirk at the 'to do' list.

"I want to sit and listen to you telling me all over again how lucky you think you are to have me! I want to stare at you until I can draw your face from memory forever. _That's_ what's supposed to happen now. Mushy, sappy, warm and fuzzy, _sickeningly sweet_ stuff. You were _dead,_ Doyle. _Dead!_ As in I was _never going to see you again_. Now I have you back, do you understand what that means to me? I spent _months_ acting like I was okay all day long then crying myself to sleep at night because you were gone and now you're here. So _**be**_ _here!_ Have a freaking pow-wow with your evil, realize that you're both after the same things and then make with the heavily accented pillow talk and '_princess'_ fluffiness because I have _had it_ with coddling both of you!"

She sat there, red faced, slowing her breathing and watching him staring at her. "WHAT?" She finally demanded.

"I love you, princess." He said softly and smiled when she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." She said, waving him off. "You don't get to love me until you and Dr. Evil work out your emotional drama. I'm not having you relapse and go all guilt-ridden on me during the post-resurrection cuddle time which I'm so _completely_ entitled to. Alright evil, I'm done with him – it's show time. Go ahead and introduce yourself." She instructed and watched Doyle's face twist in confusion.

_Pleasure to finally have you back where you're supposed to be, bud. _

Doyle's eyes widened. "Delia, there's voices in my head, love." He said in disbelief.

"Not _voices_, just _one_ voice. Don't exaggerate numbers; he has a tendency to correct people for that." Cordelia said with a smirk as she lay back against the pillows and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Right…well, I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but that's rather decidedly _not_ the case…" Doyle said aloud angrily.

_Don't do that, do it inside your head or people will think you're a nutcase. _The evil teased. "Or we could always just do it aloud like this and look like a schizophrenic; it's really up to you." The evil said and Doyle clamped a hand over his mouth in shock.

When he finally felt brave enough to remove his hand from his possessed mouth he stared at Cordelia with wide eyes. "He can _do_ tha?" He asked.

Cordelia arched an amused brow. "_Apparently_, we're not really sure what all he can do now that you're back, it's not like there's ever been a case like yours before."

_I plan to leave the physical stuff to you in the future, that is if you keep me around, just wanted to illustrate a point. _The evil said in amusement. _I figure it's your body so it's yours to control, just wondered if I might use you as a residence being how I got put in here against my will and all tha._

"He _sounds_ like me." Doyle said in bewilderment.

"_Duh!_ Probably because he _IS_ you." Cordelia said impatiently. "Your thoughts and memories are how he learned to communicate, so yeah, accent and all he's using _your_ voice."

_You're really struggling with this, yeah? _The evil asked in amusement.

_It's a bit much to take in. _Doyle thought back hesitantly. _You've molded yourself after me then?_

_Let's put it this way, inside of five minutes in your body I was on the search for scotch. A day, I was struggling to deal with loving Cordelia. A week, I was running pools for all the sporting events and cashing in big on the lawyers at Wolfram & Hart. The first time I met Wesley I spotted him with Cordy but, unlike you, I followed through with the urge to break his sternum and put him in Intensive Care for the offense. _The evil explained.

"He put Wesley in ICU?" Doyle asked Cordelia.

She scrunched up her face and nodded. "Why do you think Wesley flinched when you tried to shake his hand? He also tried to embed Angel in a wall for touching me, even though he'd only been trying to shield me. He's the possessive boyfriend instinct and you weren't there to tell him not to go overboard."

_That's an accurate observation, _the evil said.

_Alright, I'll admit I find it somewhat amusing that you hurt Wesley…you're in my head so no use lying and acting like I didn't hate him a little while ago…but being that you're following my thought process and all tha you've gotta know what I'm thinking of __**you**__ for what you did to __**Cordelia**__. _Doyle told him, his fury clear even in his inner voice. _There's no forgiving what you've done, she's the only thing I have worth breathing for and you __**used**__ me to __**hurt**__ her – I can't think of anything lower than tha. What possible reason could I have to keep you here? If you weren't a voice inside my head you already know what'd be happening right now._

The evil knew Doyle wouldn't stand a chance against him but it didn't matter, feeling the absolute disgust and hatred and violent urges that were burning inside of his host for him was more painful than a beating could hope to be. _I know words aren't going to express to you exactly how I feel for it…so I'll show you a little trick your buddy Angel showed me._ The evil said.

An instant later Doyle was sobbing and covering his eyes as the grief hit him full force, the remorse and self-hatred the evil was feeling for itself bearing down on him mercilessly.

"Oh my God! What is going _on_ in there?" Cordelia demanded as she wrapped her arms around him. "You two aren't playing nice!"

The evil let up on the grief, slowly taking it back into itself and Doyle struggled to get a grip as it receded.

"It's alright, Cord…it's fine…" Doyle choked out as he slowed his breathing and sat upright again. "Just playing show and tell apparently."

_Those are your feelings on the matter, then?_ Doyle asked grudgingly, finding the torment to be excruciatingly up to par.

_They are. I'm not heartless, well – I mean I am literally but not figuratively, at least not any more. I hope now you'll understand when I tell you I'm never going to forgive myself for it. If I'd known then all that I know now I never would have harmed her, wish I could take it back more than I could ever express. You'd be right to kick me out, there's not enough suffering to make up for what I've done. I tried to stay away from her when the guilt came, I just wanted to feel the pain of the regret since I deserved it but princess over there would have none of tha. Gave me a similar pep talk to the one she just gave you. Watch this…_The evil instructed and replayed the memory of her earlier rant.

Doyle laughed in astonishment as the memory of her tirade filled his mind and Cordelia shook her head. One second he's crying, the next he's laughing – she couldn't help but wonder what the two were talking about.

"You're something else, princess." Doyle said with smirk.

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ – what exactly are we sharing in there?" She asked indignantly.

_She's worried I'm gonna tell you what she thinks of your ass and about the little Doyle fantasies I found while poking around in her mind earlier._ The evil said with a grin evident in his voice.

_Which you definitely are, _Doyle insisted.

_Naturally, _the evil told him. _Some things are just too good not to share. _

"Hello! What's going on?" She demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Nothing, love; he's just sharing the pep talk you gave him earlier and such." Doyle said and gave her a sly smile. It was the 'and such' that he was really interested in.

_Oh that __**is**__ too good not to share, _Doyle said with a laugh in his mind. _Thanks for the tip_.

_You're in for a hell of a time, that's for sure. _The evil laughed. _She's beyond happy to have you back, last night she had a scare and it made her relive some memories; let me tell you, when she lost you that girl was more devastated than I knew a human could be without dying. See Wolfram & Hart is up to something I've not told her about, didn't want to worry her. We wandered outside the shields down on the beach by mistake and I found that there's a summoning spell trying to pull me back there – it pulled me out of your body for a few seconds and when it crumpled she just lost it, man. She can't lose you again, it'll kill her. I had to make sure you were back to take care of her before I could go after Wolfram & Hart. _

_What do they want you back for? _Doyle asked worriedly.

_They're gonna try and turn me against you all, get me back on their team, _the evil said reluctantly.

_We'll be something far beyond screwed if that happens, yeah? _Doyle asked, though he knew the answer.

_And that's putting it mildly. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve, though. Gonna do everything in my power to prevent losing my link to you, to her, to Angel. I don't want to leave. I want to be here for her just as much as you do, I want to keep her safe and stick around while you two pop out kids like Pez and live ridiculously happy lives together. _The evil told him.

_Like Pez, huh?_ Doyle asked with a laugh.

_Well she and I discussed the improbability of them being shish-ka-babies so she should be on board as long as these first two don't show up in a spiky way. _The evil mused. _Besides, I set up a pretty sweet bank account that even Cordelia would take years to drain - I know you'd love to have an army of kids so why the hell not? And making them is gonna be every bit as fun as raising them. _

_So we're loaded? _Doyle asked in surprise_._

_That we are, _the evil assured him. _Wolfram & Hart is likely still wondering what hit'em but trust me, they had it to spare. _

_And you're all for this procreation thing, are you? _Doyle asked.

_It's grown on me considerably. At first I didn't see what the big deal was, after they told me they were gonna kill her and take the babies it all clicked. That's our princess and those are our kids – and I do mean 'our' because that's how it feels – remember I feel what you feel. Nobody is gonna hurt them, nobody is going to take them away; whatever needs to be done to keep them safe is fine by me. I already offered to wipe out Wolfram & Hart but she worried I'd kill innocents in the process – in all actuality at that point I would have without a second's hesitation. Your buddy Angel, however, gave me a little lesson on what causes guilt and how to avoid it – now I'm ready to go clean house. _The evil told him determinedly.

_Ya know, about five minutes ago I'd have thrown your evil ass out of me in a heartbeat. _Doyle said slowly.

_And now? _The evil asked with a smirk.

_You already know the answer. _Doyle told him.

_I do. Glad you've seen reason. I think this is the start of a beautiful relationship. _The evil said triumphantly. _Now go make with the 'heavily accented pillow talk' and 'princess fluffiness' before Cordelia kicks our collective ass._

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**

* * *


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

"Do you think they ever intend on leaving the bedroom?" Wesley asked as he sipped his tea the following evening.

"I doubt it." Angel said, leaning on the counter and looking over at the closed door at the far end of the suite. True, he wished he could spend time with his friend but he was content with the knowledge that Doyle was finally getting time alone with Cordelia. "They've been through a lot; can't say I blame them for not wanting to be anywhere but together."

Wesley dropped his voice to a whisper. "They were screaming at one another rather intensely…"

Angel nodded. "Have to figure it was a lot for Doyle to take in and from what I heard Cordelia was setting him straight on the subject in her usual delicate manner." He said with a smirk. "They worked it out, though. Apparently Doyle and the evil must have come to an understanding since he didn't barge out here demanding for it to be removed."

"_Because we wouldn't want that_…" Wesley said bitterly. "But surely they'll need _food_ at some point." He insisted, still surprised that it had been more than 24 hours since they'd disappeared into the room. "Unless of course Cordelia planned for this and has rations stowed away in there."

"That's a very real possibility." Angel said with a smile.

"Well, at any rate I've found a passage that references something of interest in the scrolls." Wesley began, setting his mug down thoughtfully. "I'm not very far along in the translations but it seems to confirm our theory on the children playing a role in the prophecies."

Angel sighed. "I'd really been hoping they'd have two tiny terrors of the non-prophesized variety." He said glumly. "What do you have?"

"It looks as if they're to be extraordinarily powerful seers, the scrolls refer to them as the '_eyes to behold the future of mankind_' and things of that nature. It speaks of them in the highest regard; almost as if…well…never mind, I don't want to get ahead of myself. I do get the feeling they'll be playing a key part in the coming battles." Wesley explained.

"I don't like the sound of that…" Angel breathed, it hurt him to know that as Cordelia and Doyle aged and their children grew into adults he'd remain the same – that he would be there to fear for the safety of two lives he'd undoubtedly love as much as their parents. These children were a big deal for his friends but they offered something new for him, as well – he'd never been a part of the life of a mortal from beginning to end. The thought of caring for these children like family and having them fighting by his side as adults…of outliving them or infinitely worse, losing them in battle was terrifying. Somehow those fears couldn't suppress the excitement he felt, he couldn't wait to meet them. He was already looking forward to their birth, hoping for the next eight months to breeze by.

"Don't like the sound of what?" Cordelia asked as she walked up behind them and they both turned to look at her in surprise.

"Look who decided to join us." Wesley said with a smile.

"Nothing…just some prophecy stuff. How did it go?" Angel asked, not wanting to worry her about the future of the twins.

"Good…and bad…" She said as she opened the fridge. "You know, having a guy reading your mind might sound good in _theory_ but talk about privacy issues. Guh!" She grumbled with a grin.

"_Angel_, man…" Doyle said as he ventured out of the room and Angel turned quickly, still getting used to hearing that familiar tone – there was something slightly different in it now that his soul had been restored, something that pulled at Angel's heart. The two hugged, clapping each other on the back and smiling at how good it was to see one another again.

"You know how great it is to hear your voice?" Angel laughed.

"Likewise, bud. Likewise." Doyle said happily, taking a seat on a stool beside him and gripping the vampire's shoulder appreciatively. "So I hear this evil tried to make a wall ornament outta you." He said before turning to Wesley. "And that you didn't fare so well yourself. Hope you'll not hold it against me."

"No, no…I'm sure the evil is aware of where I place the blame for that incident." Wesley said with a scowl.

"Well it _did_ also prevent us from learning the inner workings of some pretty unpleasant demons' digestive tracts – I think that's enough to convince me to forgive it." Angel laughed. "So how are you taking all this?" He asked.

"It's not exactly something you get used to overnight, ya know…but I think it'll work. Besides, having the consciousness of evil around as a voice in my head is nowhere _near_ as staggering as finding out I've got Cordy here all to myself. And pregnant, too!" He said with a grin as Cordelia smiled over at him. "How about that for a welcome home? I'd say dying wasn't so bad if this is where it got me."

Wesley cleared his throat, giving Angel a purposeful look and wondering if now was the time to discuss the scrolls but Angel held up a hand, not wanting to get into it right then.

"Christ, is that _Macallan?_" Doyle asked in shock and the group turned as he climbed from the stool and crossed the kitchen. "It is! Alright, I may not have been there but I'm sure heaven would have nothing on this place." He said with a laugh as he grabbed the bottle of whisky and two shot glasses, kissing Cordelia's cheek before heading out of the kitchen. "Angel, you coming, man? Sun's set." He said and grinned as Angel stood and followed him out to the balcony. "So the office got blown up, yeah?" Doyle said as he poured a shot and handed it over to him.

"It did. Sorry to say the things I'd managed to salvage from your place after Harri had been through it were in my apartment…they didn't make it." Angel told him.

"Eh, just a bunch of junk anyway. Everything I need is here." Doyle told him.

"Are you gonna call her…or your Mom?" Angel asked, realizing he hadn't taken it into account.

Doyle shook his head. "Not for a long while. She's moved on already and I'm not looking to take a step backward, personally. Someday I'll let her know, maybe – but this is my life now. As for me Ma, she'll find out when Harri does. Cordelia, these babies and you – they're the only ones need know I'm around. I've got my family right here." He said and Angel gave him a warm smile. "To second chances." Doyle said as he held up his glass.

"To _twins_." Angel said with a laugh and watched Doyle's grin widen.

"Hey, one blessing at a time, bud. We got a bottle to kill here." Doyle said with a laugh before downing the shot. They both hissed happily as Doyle refilled their glasses. "That's some damned fine scotch…you know evil seems to have impeccable taste." He said with a laugh.

"About that…" Angel began, looking over his shoulder to ensure that Cordy and Wes were out of earshot. He wanted to have a private discussion here…at least as private as it could be with the evil listening in. "You're really dealing with everything alright?"

Doyle's jaw flexed as he rested his forearms on the railing and stared down at the glass in his hands, knowing what his friend was trying to ask. "You know about what happened, yeah?" He said quietly and saw Angel nod out of the corner of his eye. "It's not easy. It's never _gonna_ be easy to deal with tha." He sighed and tilted his head to the side. "I'm gonna blame myself for it on some level no matter what logic tells me…and I'll blame the evil inside of me more, just as he blames himself...the guilt for what was done is never gonna go away." He dropped his voice to a whisper as the shot glass blurred in his tear-filled vision. "I know this makes me a rotten bastard…but can ya believe I'm actually _thankful_ I don't remember anything of it other than her emotions and a few flashes? I don't want to see it, man. You'd be visiting me in a nuthouse if I'd come back and been hit with the memory of it. Makes me feel worse just thinking that, though. I mean come on – after what she went through how selfish is it to feel this way?"

Angel shook his head. "Not selfish at all – you couldn't exactly be here to comfort her if I had to cart you off to an asylum, right?" He said and Doyle laughed softly. Angel laid a hand on his shoulder. "It's completely understandable, there's no reason to feel guilty for feeling that way…and you know…whenever you need to talk about it…" He offered.

Doyle swallowed hard and cleared his throat, forcing a weak smile as he looked over at Angel. "Thanks, man." He said, putting his hand over Angel's and squeezing it appreciatively. "I'm sure I'll take you up on tha. But d'ya know what? Cordy's right; Wolfram & Hart did this to us – to _all_ of us – the evil included. If someone's gonna pay for it it'll be them."

"When's he going to do it?" Angel asked with a sigh, knowing it wouldn't be long before they'd have to face what was coming.

"In the morning; figured since he's part of me I can understand the reluctance to face the possibility of losing Cordy. Wants one more night curled up with her and can't say as though I blame him. Besides, if it goes sour it'll be the end of my time with her as well…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "It better not come to tha – I finally get back in a living way, get Cordelia as my own, find out I'm _really_ gonna be a Da just to lose it all? That's a bit cruel even for the _Powers'_ standards, don't ya think?"

Angel nodded. "That would be pretty excessive. He says he's got a plan, has he told you about it?"

Doyle shook his head. "Nah, he's just telling me not to worry too much – wants me to enjoy my time with Cordelia and you. Gotta say those instructions don't instill a great deal of confidence…but considering I was never gonna see either of you again I'm thankful for every second." He held up his glass. "To friendship."

"To friendship." Angel agreed with a smile before drinking the shot.

Doyle hissed as he nodded in approval. "_Oh yeah_, that's the stuff." He managed with a scrunched up face and Angel laughed.

After killing the bottle the two wandered inside and relaxed in the living room area, Cordelia affixing herself to Doyle as he asked them to regale him with what he'd missed of their adventures. Wesley had walked past with his nose in a book and, perhaps feeling guilty for the ICU bit, Doyle asked him to join them. Hours went by quickly as the group talked. Listening to the three conflicting versions of events was exceedingly comical, each of them insisting that their story was the accurate one as Doyle laughed and egged them on.

Angel couldn't help but notice as Cordelia talked excitedly and acted out things that she'd done or seen that there was a spark in her…an energy he hadn't noticed was missing all this time; a light in her eyes that had left with Doyle. She seemed alive again, _herself_ again. Wesley was marveling at the difference as well, he'd come upon these two friends in the wake of Doyle's death and had never witnessed the way she'd interacted with the man – it was like seeing a different person entirely. She had this smile she gave him that lit up the suite, this eagerness to tell him everything and be close to him. It was heartwarming to see the two together.

By midnight the group was practically glowing at the time they'd spent relaxing, talking, not worrying about impending threats.

Which was of course _right about the time when_…

Doyle cried out and gripped his head, managing "Christ, not _this_ again…" before the vision hit him full force.

_Demons…  
Red scales…  
Alright, make that BIG demons with red scales…  
Four horns…  
Fire…  
Chanting…  
Lindsey…  
Explosions…  
The resort…  
The demons were at the edge of the shields…  
A veritable war was raging…_

With one last flash of agony the vision left him. "Oh…_God_ did I not miss tha…" He groaned as Cordelia ran her hand across his head sympathetically.

"Sorry to tell you, babe – but I can't say I'll miss them, either." She confessed.

"Can't blame ya there." Doyle told her weakly as he struggled to sit up. "Sorry bout leaving'em with ya, by the way."

Cordelia smirked, "Considering it's how I got you back I don't regret a single migraine."

_Those were the demons from the cult…_the evil said worriedly.

_What cult? _Doyle asked.

Everyone turned as Angel gasped in surprise and covered his eyes, his body going rigid for several seconds before he looked up in disbelief. "Well that makes it simpler." He said in astonishment.

"What?" Cordelia asked.

"The evil, it can _show_ me the visions instead of Doyle having to explain them." Angel breathed.

_The demons in the vision were coming here; they're the ones that Wolfram & Hart brought to summon me. _The evil told Doyle and Angel. _I need to go; maybe I can stop them before they leave. _

_Good luck, bud. You're fighting for all of us – give it your best, yeah?_ Doyle said hopefully. _I'm still wantin to pop out kids like Pez and all tha so do me proud._

_Will do, _the evil told him.

_We'll see you soon. _Angel told the evil.

_One way or another, Angel._ The evil told him with a bitter laugh.

"Why are you both so quiet?" Cordelia asked worriedly as she noted the way Doyle and Angel were staring at one another.

_Cordelia, love. I've got to go take care of some things…and I might not be back. _The evil said quietly and she drew a deep breath.

_What? Why? _She asked frantically. Y_ou didn't get to stick around for that…you know…that __**thing**__…_She told it, frowning at the idea of it leaving for good.

The evil laughed. _And if I could stay a bit longer I'd definitely not miss tha, you take care of Doyle and Angel, yeah? I'll try to be back soon and…_it trailed off, not wanting to say 'and not inside someone who's coming to hurt you'.

_Are you inside Doyle now?_ She asked.

_For the moment, _he told her.

Cordelia leaned forward and kissed Doyle deeply, hugging him and trying not to cry. _Get back here soon, you're part of us now – this is where you belong._

_Agreed, and how could I want to be anywhere else when you kiss like tha?_ The evil told her. _Love you, princess._

_I love you, too._ She whispered in her mind.

The group watched as the energy stood from Doyle in a humanoid shape, Doyle shuddering at the sensation of it leaving his body and staring up at it in surprise. It gave them one last look before waving goodbye, falling to a shapeless mass and pouring out the balcony doors into the night.

* * *

**To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

"Do you think he's alright?" Cordelia whispered worriedly as they lay awake together in bed an hour later.

"I hope so, princess." Doyle told her softly, kissing her forehead and holding her closely to him.

"Why did he have to go? I don't understand. He didn't tell me anything about leaving." She whined. "It's like one of your beat-up old jackets just got up and left without consulting me first. I don't want to lose any parts of you."

Doyle chuckled quietly at her comparison. "Everything's gonna be fine, love." He told her, though he hated that he didn't know if it was the truth. He really didn't want to consider that this might be his last night with her…_again_. "So've you thought of any names yet?" He asked, hoping to distract her mind.

"Well you like Shaughnessy for a boy – Shaughn for short." She began and he laughed and shook his head that she already knew that. "And I like Selia for a little girl. Your evil tells me that's an Irish name and that it thinks I just have a taste for all things Celtic."

"I'd have to agree with him on tha." Doyle said with a smile.

"You know we'll change the names a hundred times before they're born." She said, grinning up at him.

"It's still fun to think about." He told her. "Aeden is nice, means 'little fire' – could use it for a boy or a girl and if they've got their mother's temperament it would fit perfectly."

Cordelia laughed and shoved him playfully. "Shut up." She said with a smile. "So if we name a boy that takes after you we could call him 'Whisky'?"

"Hey – you might be on to something there." He told her, struggling to keep a straight face, "Maybe Bushmills or Jameson. Nah, that'd never work. I'd get thirsty every time I called the bugger."

Cordelia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I definitely want them to have original names. No John or Jane or anything – I always loved having a name that set me apart. Besides, they should sound important because…and I know this is gonna sound weird…I think they might really _be_ important, you know, beyond just being our babies." She said quietly, scrunching up her face and waiting to see if he'd call her crazy.

"Hey, being our babies makes them as important as they can get in my mind, princess…but you mean…since Wolfram & Hart is so interested in them…?" He asked, looking down at her worriedly.

"Why would they want them so bad? The prophecy Wesley is translating had stuff in it about you being resurrected, Doyle. It's gotta say something about the twins, too. I'm not sure if I want to know, though." She whispered.

"Doesn't matter what it says on paper; no matter how old the paper happens to be. They'll be fine, they're gonna have a great life, you'll see." He soothed.

Cordelia smiled and nodded, sighing and resting her head on his chest again. "Why isn't he _back_ yet?" She asked.

"I don't know, love…I don't know." Doyle whispered to her.

* * *

In the center of the room the flames jumped and flashed, symbols around the base of the pit glowing in warning. The demons were all chattering in that booming nonsensical language and Lindsey looked over for a translation from one of the associates.

"They say the evil is coming." The woman told him and he nodded, smiling triumphantly.

An impact filled the air like thunder and one of the demons fell backward, clutching its chest as the others huddled around it talking excitedly.

"It's taken the host offering," the translator told Lindsey and he walked over to the eight foot tall demon as the others helped it back onto its feet.

"Welcome back." Lindsey said with a smug grin. "I take it you're feeling a bit differently about the firm now?"

The demon nodded slowly, still looking dazed.

"Good. We're going to escort Cordelia to her new quarters – the senior partners are understandably anxious to have her in their custody after that stunt you pulled. Let's try not to screw this up a second time." Lindsey said heatedly, turning and leaving the room and motioning for the demons to follow.

* * *

"Cordelia, Doyle – _wake up_." Angel said as he opened the door. "We've got trouble." He said, rushing to the window and looking outside.

Doyle's heart leapt into his throat. "What kinda trouble?" He asked as they climbed from the bed.

"Well…" Angel began but an explosion rocked outside the shields and cut him off, the foundation of the hotel quaking as Cordelia cried out and clung to Doyle.

"What the hell! Don't they know this place is protected?" She asked angrily as they rushed out into the main room of the suite.

"Miss Chase." Luvisutto called as he stepped off the elevator and she looked at him in surprise hearing her real name. His eyes fell on Doyle, looking at him appraisingly for a moment before back at her. "The entity that inhabited this man a short time ago requested that we keep you under our highest level of protection. I'll need you to follow me."

"I'm going down there." Angel said, grabbing an axe from his bag hurriedly.

"Yes, we're…wait, what?" Wesley asked in shock.

"Doyle, you stay with Cordelia." Angel instructed as he continued loading up on weapons.

"Like _hell_, man! You're not going down there fighting alone." Doyle said angrily as he took a step toward him but Cordy yanked him back.

"And like hell _you're_ going anywhere _near_ fighting!" Cordelia told Doyle, her grip on him tightening severely. "I'm not losing you again!" She screamed determinedly.

"And I'm not for the idea of losing Angel, princess!" Doyle told her before spinning back to face his friend. "Angel, man – don't do this, just come with us – _please_? The hotel has its own defenses; you don't need to go down there. I just got back; I can't _do this_ sacrificing for the good fight thing from a second standpoint. You're not gonna go _dying_ on me for no reason!"

"You're right, I'm not…but I am going down there to _fight_." He said, putting a hand on Doyle's arm and trying not to let the pleading look in his friend's fearful eyes cut him too deeply. "It's alright. I'll be back; you just need to take care of Cordelia and those babies." He told him, trying to keep his mind on what was important.

"We must leave _now_." Luvisutto said sternly as another explosion rocked the building's foundation. "Whoever is coming with Miss Chase is welcome to follow but we've made a promise to protect her and can't do that unless we move."

Doyle swallowed back tears as he gazed up into the face of his friend and grudgingly turned away from him.

"Wesley, you go with them." Angel told him.

Wesley glanced over his shoulder for a second and caught Doyle's eyes, each giving the other a meaningful look and he inclined his head to Doyle slightly. He sighed, picking up a sword and shaking his head. "No, Angel. I'm coming with _you_." He said quietly.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

Cordelia looked around them worriedly as the elevator continued upward…she'd known the penthouse was the top floor of the hotel but still they went higher, white light flashing in between the doors telling her that they weren't in Cali anymore.

Doyle was shaking uncontrollably at her side, his eyes locked on the wall, his breathing rapid and nostrils flaring as he fought to keep his anger and wish to go help Angel in check. She tried to comfort him with her presence as much as possible but it was little consolation; his friend had just gone off to fight without him.

He'd finally come back, spent all those months in a state of limbo not sure of where he was or how much time had passed but against all odds he'd returned. They'd only spent a few _hours_ together and now he was facing never seeing Angel again; the thought was devastating. For the first time he truly understood how much his own death must have hurt his friend. Without warning he punched the wall, cursing under his breath and pacing the oversized interior of the elevator as Cordelia watched him sympathetically.

He hated feeling so helpless but Angel was right, he needed to stay with Cordelia…it didn't make it hurt any less. Angel was part of the reason why he was excited about living, about these babies, about a future with Cordelia. He was a part of his life and he didn't want to face it without him. He wanted to share joys and losses with the bastard. He wanted to drink with him even if it did take entirely too much whisky to get the vampire buzzed. He wanted his children to bond with the man he respected so much, to provide him with those links to humanity that were so important to Angel's frame of mind.

He leaned his back against the wall and sank to the floor, pressing his palm to his forehead and praying to whoever would listen for this to all work out alright.

* * *

Angel and Wesley raced through the empty main lobby and out the front doors, finding that the demon hordes that were attacking were unable to cross the threshold and were still trying to break through the power that was blocking their path. Angel scanned the crowd for red, looking for the ones from the vision and not finding them.

"What do we do now?" Wesley asked in disbelief.

"We wait and see if they can bring down the shields…if they do we fight." Angel told him.

"And die." Wesley said glumly.

Angel smirked over at him. "Possibly."

"Well don't get yourself killed or I'll have to do the same – if I go up there without you Doyle's likely to kill me himself." Wesley told him.

Angel smirked over at him again. "_Probably_."

"Doyle said the hotel has its own defenses…I was under the impression that you and I wouldn't be standing out here alone. Where is the staff?" Wesley said worriedly.

"I'm pretty sure they're all part of the same energy…must have given up their forms for the fight." Angel motioned up at a series of threatening looking stone markers at the perimeter of the hotel's property that hadn't been visible before, noting the red energy that was blazing within them he understood their purpose. "You see those? If enemies manage to bring down the main shields this place is gonna switch its objective from secure to defend. Trust me, it might seem like it but we are very definitely _not_ standing out here alone."

* * *

The trucks rolled in, the demons climbing out following the leader that was hosting the evil.

"Ready?" Lindsey asked as he approached and the demon nodded. "Get them their weapons." Lindsey called.

He watched his men scatter to retrieve the towering bladed staffs these demons used. It took three men to carry one of the weapons but these things handled them like they were nothing.

"Looks like your welcoming party is waiting." Lindsey laughed when he spotted Angel standing inside the shield. "Oh I'm looking forward to this…" He breathed. "You spent time with them in that other vessel, tell me – Angel and Cordelia are close, right? He cares for her?" He watched the demon nod. "_Good_. I'm gonna torment him for a long time with what we do to her. As long as we don't hurt the babies she's fair game and hey, not like she'll get _more_ pregnant." He said with a cruel smile.

* * *

"Please make yourselves comfortable." Luvisutto said as he stepped off the elevator into a marble room awash with blue light and Cordelia did a double take finding that he looked completely different in this place. Horns and spikes seemed to have appeared from nowhere all over his body but she paid them little attention, it took a _supremely_ hideous demon to faze her these days.

Doyle walked into the room at her side, gripping her arm and pulling her closer to him, stopping dead in his tracks the instant he realized where they were. "Whoa, whoa, _whoa_, bud – this can't be right…you've taken us into the dark realm of eternal watchin, my friend. I mean this _ain't even a_ _**channel**_…we're not supposed to…I mean aren't the…" He whistled and motioned upward with his eyes nervously. "Gonna be less than happy about two mortals being on their plain of existence?"

Luvisutto smiled. "No, Cordelia and her protectors were bidden safe passage into their realm."

Doyle shifted uncomfortably at this unexpected development and eyed Luvisutto suspiciously. "Well why is that exactly, if ya don't mind my asking? They've sorta got a no pulse clause around here." He said worriedly.

"It would seem they've deemed it in their interest to keep her sheltered from harm." Luvisutto said cryptically. "When the entity you hosted requested her protection we checked for places where she would be welcome; this was our top choice of those that consented. I find you'll agree it can't get more secure than this."

"You can say _tha_ again." Doyle breathed.

"What's the big deal?" Cordelia whispered.

"Only…_certain types_…can tread here, love." Doyle said quietly.

"Huh?" She asked, tilting her head to the side in confusion.

"If you'd like to check in on your friends you can do so." Luvisutto told them, motioning to a pool of silver liquid at the center of the room. "Think of what you wish to see and it will show you."

Cordelia stared down at the liquid and instantly the scene of the hotel flickered across its surface. "Wow, that was easy." She said with a grin, focusing on Angel in her mind and watching him and Wesley appear.

Doyle stepped closer, his chest tightening at the thought of standing here in a place of total safety and watching Angel fighting down there without him.

* * *

Lindsey stood with the demons watching the explosions slowly weakening the shields. "Cordelia needs to be brought in alive and unharmed, got it? She's pregnant so don't rough her up too much. We can't have her miscarrying or all of us will be dead by sunrise for the mistake."

The demon nodded in understanding again.

"Good boy." Lindsey said with a wink. He hated to admit that Lilah had been right in finding this cult; they were nothing if not controllable.

_Ah, Lindsey…how very right you are, bud_…

_Do you swear your loyalty to me?  
_Unwaveringly.

"Here they are, sir." One of the men said as the weapons were brought forth.

"Excellent, give them to these guys so they can do their thing." Lindsey said with a grin.

_Do you pledge your lives to my balance and purpose in this world?  
_Completely.

Lindsey looked up at the red demon behind him. "Do me a favor, find Angel's friend Doyle, hack him up into portable but still _recognizable_ pieces and bring his remains to me with Cordelia. Oh, and make sure you do it in front of her, too. I want her to understand who she's dealing with right from the start – it'll make her easier to control. As for Angel I want him alive. He's gonna _beg_ for death by the time I'm through with him."

The demon smiled a horrifying smile of jagged teeth and nodded.

_Do you offer your bodies as my vessels?  
Do you consent to my will?  
_Irrevocably.

Angel looked over, spotting Lindsey and glaring angrily – only to stare in shock as the red demon behind him spun with impossible grace and brought its blade in a downward arch straight through him.

Angel's eyes went wide as he watched Lindsey's body falling to the ground in two halves.

* * *

"_Oh gross!_" Cordelia said, wincing and turning away from the pool.

Doyle laughed in astonishment, his eyes going wide as he realized what was going on. "That's a hell of a plan…" He breathed. "Cordelia, love – great news – turns out we're gonna be making a lot of babies." He said cheerfully.

* * *

The entire world seemed to go silent for a moment before the red demons turned on the rest of the forces and the war began.

"Good Lord!" Wesley breathed in astonishment. "What's happening?" He stammered over the chaos.

Angel's jaw was still hanging open as he stared at Lindsey's body in the distance. "The evil just changed the game."

The sounds of numerous screaming breeds of dying demons filled the night air; none of them stood a chance. They were dwarfed by the large and brutal breed that had been imported for the purpose of securing and manipulating the evil.

One tiny flaw with that plan – this cult had been devoted to _serving_ evil for a scant few millennia and money didn't really have much bargaining power with cave dwellers. They'd gone along with Wolfram & Hart only to be brought before the energy they served. Why would they wish to aid a law firm that had meddled in powers beyond its comprehension? They had no intention of changing the desire of evil if it had been given a consciousness and as a result decided on its _own_ path.

"They're retreating!" Wesley said in amazement, pointing to groups of demons that were racing away from the battle.

"Yeah well they're not getting very far." Angel said, pointing at the red demons in pursuit.

"_Fascinating_ species – I've never even heard of them." Wesley marveled. "They're highly intelligent creatures, look at the way they're flanking their enemies…obviously a militant culture. I wish I had brought my journal down with me."

Angel smirked and shook his head. "Why don't you just ask this one to come upstairs for an interview?" He said, watching Wesley look over in confusion before the color completely drained from his face. The largest of the red demons, the one that had killed Lindsey was passing through the shields and walking toward them casually despite the war raging behind it, a blood-soaked bladed staff the size of a small telephone pole resting on its shoulder.

"Angel…do you suppose we should…maybe…perhaps… _flee?_" He asked in a trembling voice and Angel laughed.

"No, Wesley. It's already crossed the threshold – see? It could only do that if it had no intentions of harming guests." Angel told him.

"Quite a…_large_…breed…don't you think?" Wesley asked timidly as the demon walked up in front of them.

"Nice work." Angel said with a smile and the demon inclined its head.

_Yeah, turned out rather nicely if ya ask me, _the evil told him, looking back over its shoulder at the battle for a second. _And __**you**__…_the evil said to Wesley as he let his voice fill both of their minds. _You just keep surprising me. What the hell are you doing out here all sword-in-hand and ready to march into battle?_

"Well…" Wesley stammered as he pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose, "Doyle and I seemed to be of the same mind that Angel couldn't be out here fighting alone. Since he needed to stay with Cordelia I came in his stead."

The demon grinned, its jagged teeth sending Wesley's heart racing. _You're alright for a simpering idiot, d'ya know tha?_ The evil laughed. _I suppose I no longer wish to inflict physical harm on you._ The demon clapped Wesley on the back which earned a startled yelp and flinch before he recovered and stood upright again. _Congratulations, I'm gonna let you live._

"Oh, how very gracious of you." Wesley said bitterly.

_You'll need to learn to protect yourself, though. I'm not gonna be watching over you…_the evil said, using the demon to put its arms around Angel and Wesley's shoulders and guide them into the hotel.

Angel smirked up at it as it continued pep talking Wesley.

_And why don't you start carrying a gun or crossbow? I know you're a great shot, can see it in your mind, enough with the close combat weapons until you've learned to handle them properly… _

* * *

"So when can we go back?" Cordelia asked Luvisutto excitedly as she turned away from the pool.

"Soon, once the threat is completely eradicated and the cleansing spells rid the surrounding area of the evidence of this little skirmish we'll return." He said, his hands still clasped behind his back as he stood at the edge of the room.

Cordy pounced on Doyle, hugging him and kissing him as he laughed. "See? Everything worked out! Angel's fine, the evil's back and you're still with me!"

"Wonders never cease, princess." He said, grinning at her as she flashed that ten million dollar smile of hers.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

*ducks vegetables that are being thrown*

**Hold it!** LOL The veggie-chuckers are the Lindsey fans and I want you to hear me out here, I know you're pissed that he got killed BUT...  
After seeing the way he was eventually killed in the series I felt this was more fitting - him being shot in the chest by Lorne and his indignant proclamation of:

"_**You** kill me? A **flunky**?! I'm not just... Angel...kills me. You don't... Angel._.."

made me feel that someone other than a non-violent character should have been the one to take him out in a less...I don't know...how to describe it...  
In a less _mortal_ way? I guess that'll have to do. I mean I didn't like that he died so off-handedly in the series, it was like an affront to how major an evil he was  
that his murder was done in such a casual manner. As if he wasn't significant enough to die in a supernatural way or at the hands of a more powerful character.

And anyway, keep in mind that characters never really die in the Whedon-verse. ;)  
(_Aside from Doyle, which we all know is a sore subject with me - but even he's back in fanfiction such as this one_)  
Lindsey could still have been brought back by W&H if he'd died in this way while still in their good graces and in all likelihood would have been.

**

* * *

****To read is fine,  
To REVIEW is _DIVINE_. ;) **


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

"Angel!" Cordelia squealed the instant the elevator doors opened and he turned in time for both of his friends to collide with him and hug him happily.

"Alright, hey – everything's fine. I'm not hurt….at least I won't be…if you two stop _squeezing_ me." Angel said with a laugh.

"Just shut up and give us a minute to adjust, yeah? We both thought we'd never see you again." Doyle told him and Angel shook his head hearing his own words. "How the hell did he fit up in the elevator?" Doyle asked as he let Angel go and inclined his head to the demon standing across from them.

_Slowly and carefully…and with a great deal of imagination, _the evil broadcast to the room.

"I'll bet." Doyle laughed. "So's that your new home now?" He asked.

_Not if I can help it – I don't see Cordy and this guy having much in common, bud. _The evil sent back.

"Nope, he's not really my type." She said with a smirk as she rested her arm on Doyle's shoulder. "I go for short demons, green instead of red…and I'm more into spikes than horns."

"The girl is a bit particular in her tastes." Doyle said with a wink. "So what'll these guys do now?" He asked.

_Go back home and worship me fervently – as well they should, _the evil said with a laugh.

"Then are you coming back inside or what?" Doyle asked.

_Thought you'd never ask, _the evil said. It seeped from the demon and flowed across the room to Doyle, passing into him slowly.

"That's gonna take some getting used to." Doyle said with a shudder, his skin covered in goose bumps at the sensation.

_Ah, home sweet whisky-craving home…not that being eight feet tall isn't fun for all of about five minutes but you should see that guy trying to duck into doors. Trust me, never again wish you were taller, bud. _The evil advised.

"I'll take your word for it." Doyle said with a laugh. "Luvisutto, you mind showing our guest out?" He asked.

"It would be my pleasure." Luvisutto said with a bow, motioning for the demon to follow him and after a bit of that imagination the evil had mentioned they managed to get the elevator doors closed.

"You guys be careful in that thing from now on, by the way." Cordy told Angel and Wesley. "Don't push the 'up' button if you see it."

"The '_up'_ button?" Wesley asked.

"Yeah, led to this marble place with blue lights and silver pools that you could watch stuff happening in. Doyle says we shouldn't have been welcome there – they made an exception for me though." She said with a grin.

Wesley and Angel both stared over at Doyle in slack-jawed shock.

He shifted uncomfortably under their gaze. "So I'm guessing we should all get on the same page now on those prophecies about the twins, yeah?"

"_I would say so_." Wesley breathed in astonishment.

"What? Why does everyone go all weird about that place?" She asked in confusion.

"It's the realm of the Powers That Be, Cordelia." Doyle said, but noting her vacant stare he smiled and kissed her forehead, giving her the short and sweet version. "Means our little ones are important, just like you thought."

"Oh…so how is me being right a surprise?" She asked incredulously. "Anybody else hungry? I'm _starving!_" She said, turning and wandering into the kitchen.

"Is she failing to realize how _significant_ her being welcome in that realm…" Wesley began and Doyle held up a hand, shrugging and closing his eyes for a second.

"Let her be." Doyle said with a smirk before following her. "What do we have in here? I've got a lot of months of eating to make up for." He called to her and she laughed.

"You tried that excuse for drinking, too!" She told him.

Angel walked up beside Wesley and sighed contentedly watching his friends joking around in the kitchen.

"Is no one going to so much as even _acknowledge_…" Wesley began and Angel clapped him on the back, cutting him short.

"You hungry, Wesley?" He asked with a smirk, following his friends' lead in just taking this a day at a time.

* * *

**If you read it, _FEED _it**.** ;)**


	32. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

"Princess…" Doyle said with a sigh.

"_No!_" She called back angrily.

"Princess you have to come out of there _sometime_." He said, leaning his head back on the wall.

"No I don't." She told him determinedly.

"But what am I gonna do if you stay in there and I'm out here?" He asked. "Then I'll be sad and cry and no one wants to see _tha_."

"You'll be just fine." She assured him.

"I'm gonna count to three and if I don't have a princess out here with me I'm gonna cry. 1…2…3…" He called; when no response came he started whimpering and covered his face.

"You're not really crying, you're _fake_-crying!" She told him but Doyle continued sobbing.

Slowly the little girl crept out from the cabinet, sneaking up on him cautiously and losing her resolve when he didn't seem to notice her presence. "_You're not really crying, right Da?_" She whispered worriedly, reaching out and putting her hand on his hair.

He snatched her up and her high pitched squeal echoed through the halls of the Hyperion as he tickled her. "What are you hiding for, love?" He asked after she'd been subjected to a sufficient level of tickle-torture.

His own blue eyes gazed up at him – they'd all gotten that from their father, along with his pale skin and thick, black hair. He told Cordelia he was thankful for their sake that they'd taken after her bone structure and features, though it made him dread his daughters' teen years all the more. They were stunning as children, he trembled at the thought of how beautiful they'd be come sixteen. He and Angel had spent many a night plotting ways to scare off future boyfriends. Having an overprotective vampire as a godfather and an evil-hosting half-demon for a father was going to make dating a challenge for the girls.

"Cuz you only brought us here cuz you and Mommy are going out tonight _without _us." She whined, sticking out her bottom lip, crossing her arms over her chest and working up her very best crocodile tears.

"Don't ya think Mommy deserves a night of fun now and then?" He asked and she shook her head feverishly as she pouted. "_No?_" He said with a laugh. "You know tonight is a special night, yeah?" He asked.

"Uh-huh. It's your anniver-story." She told him, stumbling over the word she'd heard her father say so many times this week.

"And she _still_ doesn't get to go out so I can spoil her like I always spoil you?" He asked and she shook her head. "So she doesn't get to have fun…even if your Uncle Angel is watching you….and your Uncle Lorne is coming over, too?"

Her eyes widened. "Really?" She asked.

He tapped the end of her nose. "Really truly." He assured her, thankful for the meeting the group was holding tonight because the more names he could throw at his daughter the less likely a full on tantrum would be. "And Aunt Fred is gonna be here with Uncle Wesley…and Uncle Gunn is even coming, too. But noooo problem, darling – I've got you covered, just leave everything to me." He said, motioning dramatically with his hands. "Since you want us to stay home I'll tell them all that my little princess Selia says they can't see her – she'd rather we all just sit in tonight and be bored. No one's gonna keep my girl from getting her way. Stay put, I'll be right back." He told her as he started to climb to his feet and she instantly latched onto his leg.

"No!" She whined and he struggled to keep a straight face.

"What's tha?" He asked, cupping his ear. "I didn't catch what you said."

"Noooo!" She screeched shrilly.

Cordelia stood outside the door with their son in her arms trying not to laugh listening to the two of them. Doyle always seemed to know how to handle these stubborn fits with the girls – she supposed she may have been the cause for his talent; she'd given him plenty of practice before they'd been born.

"Still didn't catch you, '_no'_ what?" He asked.

"No – I want Uncle Angel to watch us tonight! Plleeaaseee???" She begged.

"Hmm…I don't know. I'll have to think about it." He said. "Maybe by the time I get out into the hall I'll have decided. You coming with?"

Selia grinned and hugged his leg, standing on his foot as he walked out of the room.

"So we're staying in tonight?" Cordelia asked in feigned ignorance as Doyle approached with their daughter affixed to him. "I think we should all go to bed _really_ early if we do, get lots of rest…"

Selia paled beyond her natural complexion at the thought.

"No, you're gonna go out…cuz…cuz you _deserve a night of fun now and then, don't ya think?_" She repeated what her father had said, accent and all.

"The girl makes an excellent point." Doyle said with a grin, winking down at his daughter. It amused him greatly that this one was bound to develop her own thick brogue for all the time she spent trying to sound like him.

"I got rhythm…I got music…" Lorne sang as he entered the hotel lobby and Selia was off Doyle's leg like a shot.

"Lorne!" She squealed and Doyle shook his head. "Lorne! Lorne! Lorne! Lorne!" She continued, screeching his name for each of the stairs as she descended them.

"She gets her energy from you, love. I swear I get tired just _watching_ her." He said as their daughter launched herself at the demon.

"I got my _Selia clinging to my leg with a vice grip_, who could ask for anything more?" Lorne sang with a laugh. "Hey there, little miss crumb-cake!" He said as he scooped her up into his arms. "Where's your sister?" He asked, looking around for her expectantly.

"Lorne! Lorne! Lorne! Lorne!" came the squealing twin voice as she burst out of Angel's office.

"And we have our missing honey-bun." Lorne said with a laugh, looking down at the little girl who hugged his leg before demanding to be picked up as well.

"Looks like we got ourselves a full house tonight." Gunn said as he entered, looking over Lorne's shoulder and making faces at the twins. "You two gonna keep us on our toes while your parents are out?"

"Yup." Selia said.

"_Naturally_." Shelagh said, tossing her hair over her shoulder dramatically.

"Oh, now who does _she_ remind you of?" Doyle asked Cordy as they approached and she elbowed him playfully. Shelagh definitely took after her mother in the theatrical flair department.

"Shelagh did you – _ooww!_" Angel began before tripping over a toy on his way out into the lobby. "Did you take the keys to my filing cabinet and lock it again?" He asked with a sigh.

Lorne arched a brow at the guilty smile on the little girl's face. "Would you do something like that?" He asked.

"I wanted to play and he was reading too much and wasn't being any fun." She insisted.

"He does that from time to time when your Da wants to play, too." Doyle confided to her with a frown. "I usually just lock him out of his office, though. _Nice move_ with the cabinet." He commended his daughter, giving her an impressed nod.

Angel crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. "I seem to remember being told that the 'knob is busted'."

"Hey you can't blame us for keeping you from taking life too seriously, bud." Doyle said, coaxing his daughter to give up the keys.

"Not that you need to be worrying about files." Cordelia said as she handed the baby over to Angel. "Around seven see if he's hungry; if he'll take a bottle then he should be out like a light."

"_Hey_ little man." Angel cooed with a smile as the infant stared up at him and gripped his finger. He found it impossible to maintain his trademark stoicism whenever the baby was in his arms or the girls were crawling all over him. Smiling had become a regular occurrence since these children had come into his life. "At least _Shaughn_ doesn't mind me reading." He said and stuck his tongue out at Shelagh as she did the same.

"_Yeah_ …" Shelagh scoffed. "That's cuz Shaughn's a baby and doesn't know what '_boring'_ is yet." She told him, uncannily channeling her mother's sarcastic tone.

Angel feigned offense at her chiding, letting his mouth hang open and clutching his chest above Shaughn. His reaction earned a delighted giggle from his goddaughter.

"Truth from the mouths of babes." Doyle said with a shrug. "Can't argue with her, bud."

"Every time I hear these girls talk I grow fonder of them." A voice called from the entryway and everyone looked up, the twins grinning and wriggling to get down from Lorne's grasp as they broke into a run for the new visitor.

"_Spike_…you're here…_why_ are you here?" Angel asked.

Spike tossed his cigarette out the front door and exhaled the smoke from his lungs quickly; he never smoked around the kids. "Figured I'd pop in and check if I was missing any fun..." The girls both collided with him at that point, hugging his legs as he grinned down at them. "And I _was_, apparently. Didn't know the twin terrors were running about or I'd have come sooner. _Ello, itty-bits_." He crooned as he hoisted them each up on a hip, strolling down the stairs to the rest of the group as the girls cuddled against him.

Doyle smirked and looked over at the way Angel was curling his lip. Angel and Spike might bicker worse than an old married couple over the whole _Buffy _fiasco but Angel hadn't been able to ignore the way Spike protected the girls, his loyalty to the twins had been as close to redemption in Angel's eyes as the man could get.

You see, half a year had passed since the fateful day when one of Doyle's visions had led him and Angel out on routine surveillance…nothing dangerous involved. The evil had been busy keeping tabs on the latest Big Bad for them but, again, nothing major was supposed to be going on…

Because the towering, multi-mouthed demon that attacked the hotel at sunset hadn't been included in Doyle's vision.

It had tossed Gunn across the room, knocking him unconscious before turning its attention to beating Wesley unmercifully. With their two protectors incapacitated a _very_ pregnant Cordelia along with the twins had been backed into a corner, coming within a hair's breadth of losing their lives.

Spike, who at that point had only recently been brought back to life and was still on the outs with the gang, had just walked through the doors of the lobby and stood slack-jawed for a fraction of a second taking in the scene; the demon was closing in on them…Cordelia had turned her back on it and huddled down around her daughters and unborn son – leaving her back exposed in an effort to offer at least some protection to her children. He'd managed to utter a stunned '_bloody hell_' before rushing in to save them and nearly getting himself killed in the process.

Eyes swollen shut, bleeding profusely and trying to heal from the beating he'd endured he sat amid the broken glass with his back propped up against the counter beside Cordelia, squeezing her hand in support as she struggled to stop crying. The girls clung to him, telling their Mommy with complete certainty that he had been '_sent'_ to them; that it was his '_destiny'_ to be the '_champion'_ for the '_seers'_ and that his protection of them had been '_foretold'_. With a look of disbelief on her face and a hand pressed to her swollen belly she'd noted it was the first time she'd heard them using these terms; the rule was _no one_ talked about prophecies around her or the twins – she knew no one had ever explained to them the concepts of destinies or someone being a champion for the Powers That Be.

Cordelia hadn't been able to look at Spike the same since then.

The evil had apparently checked in on them around that point and found the place a wreck – doing a headcount, finding that everyone was alive and telling Doyle and Angel to get their asses home _pronto_. It had been then that it informed them it would never again be leaving Cordelia and the children without the two of them there to protect them.

Doyle had raced in through the broken doors in a blind panic with Angel hot on his trail, sliding in beside them on the floor and holding the three (well, _four_) of them frantically as he dealt with the terror of having almost lost them. Angel had stared at his family with tear-filled eyes, looking over at Spike in confusion and wondering how he played into the chaos. When Doyle finally calmed down enough to relax his hold his daughters informed him that the man he'd once hated had just saved their lives. From that point on Spike had been a close friend. Even Angel hadn't been able to hide his gratitude for the bastard, the three of them drinking together to excess that night and many nights since.

The _evil_ even liked Spike, telling Doyle and Angel that it found not a shadow of a doubt in Spike's mind of how willing he was to die for the twins that were currently snuggling under his chin and playing with the collar of his leather duster.

"You two off to shag like rabbits and bring on more tykes to make fun of Angel, are you?" Spike asked Doyle and Cordelia arched a brow at him.

"What's '_shag'_?" Selia asked.

"Carpet." Angel answered quickly, giving Spike a warning glare.

"That doesn't make sense." Shelagh said, looking up at Spike quizzically.

"Spike rarely does, love." Doyle told her and she grinned.

"We like him anyway." Selia said as she played with his necklace. "He's funny."

"Well there ya have it." Spike told Angel with a smile. "I'd be the funny one, while you, apparently are the _boring_ one."

Everyone in the room groaned, muttering '_not this again_' as Spike and Angel scowled at one another.

Selia and Shelagh broke in on the moment. "Catch! Catch! Catch!" Both of the little girls started squealing in unison without warning and Spike flinched at their outbursts beside his ears, muttering an anguished '_bollocks!'_ as he was unable to cover his aching eardrums from the assault.

Doyle, however, tensed up expectantly at their words, Gunn and Angel both diving for him the instant before the vision hit. As always he fought to keep as much control as possible so as not to scare his daughters but they had never seemed to be worried by his visions. In fact, they'd been acting as his personal impending-vision-alert system since they were old enough to talk, somehow able to sense their approach before he or even the evil could. He slowly opened his eyes, thanking Gunn and Angel as he pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

"That was a bad one. Da needs a pen, paper and…" Shelagh began.

"Single malt scotch…you'd best make it a _double_." Selia told her Uncle Angel emphatically, once again mimicking her father's brogue to perfection and Angel smirked. She had a habit of talking to him the way her father did which was always exceedingly comical.

"I'm fine, girls." Doyle assured them.

"You're no good at lying, Da. Your head still hurts _real_ bad." Selia insisted.

"Yup. Mommy, Da needs aspirinses. He's doing his 'pretend it doesn't hurt' thing again." Shelagh said.

Doyle smiled over at her. "Tattle-tale." He told her and she grinned triumphantly.

"_No!_ No bad visions, not tonight." Cordelia whined as she fished the aspirin bottle out of her purse and handed them to Doyle. "I just got all dressed up and even managed not to get spit-up on for once!"

"You're looking great, by the way." Doyle told her with a wink. "And hey, you still manage to pull off spit-up somehow."

"Shut up." She said with a smile and rolled her eyes. "This is serious. We've been trying to get out for _months_."

_It's nothing major, princess. I can handle it. _The evil assured her, making sure everyone in the room could hear it as always. It had become necessary over the years in order to keep everyone in the loop.

In the beginning it had never sent its voice to the girls…then came the day when Shelagh had impatiently informed it that they had always been able to hear it. To say the evil had been unnerved by the experience of a child speaking to it like it was failing to comprehend something would be a drastic understatement. He'd been more than a little disappointed to find that while Cordelia was able to open her emotions to him at will the twins were just as easily able to shut him out of their heads. The revelation had put a kink in his earlier belief that they'd never be able to sneak one by on their Da with him around to snoop.

"Just a nasty demon in the sewers that's hatching. He can take care of it." Doyle said and Angel nodded for him to go ahead. As long as it didn't involve any innocents they let the evil do its thing. The only outward indication of the evil leaving Doyle's body were the goose bumps on his arms, another attempt to shield the girls from anything traumatic – though he figured a day was coming when they'd tell him they could always _see_ him as well.

"Hatching demon?" Wesley asked, walking into the lobby with Fred on his arm.

"Nothing to worry about." Doyle told him as Cordelia smoothed his shirt and hair, trying to make him look presentable again after his round of playing with their daughter and then getting hit with the vision. The man was impossible to keep looking groomed for these reasons.

"Hey girls! We gonna have fun tonight?" Fred asked, walking up beside Spike and smiling as they each stretched away from him and wrapped an arm around her for a hug.

"Yup – we're not gonna let Uncle Angel be boring _at all_." Shelagh insisted.

"Well there goes any chance of research…" Wesley sighed.

_Back – and that thing was all kinds of ugly, let me tell ya. _The evil laughed. _You two enjoy yourselves, we'll hold down the fort._

"Sounds good to me, we're outta here. You girls be good and _listen_ to your Uncle Angel, okay?" Cordelia said sternly as she hugged her daughters.

"Yes, Mommy." The girls said in their tone of feigned innocence.

Doyle waited until Cordelia was out of earshot before whispering to them with a grin, "_Be sure to keep him on his toes for your Da, though._" They both smiled mischievously and nodded as he kissed their cheeks. Spike gave him a mischievous smirk of his own to assure Doyle there'd be no rest for Angel tonight.

* * *

Four hours later Doyle and Cordelia returned, pushing the doors of the hotel and giving one another knowing smiles seeing the mess in the lobby.

Gunn was asleep in one of the chairs with a pink feather boa draped around his neck. Fred was curled up in a chair next the counter, her hair pulled up impossibly high on her head with dozens of pink barrettes and an _insane_ amount of makeup was covering her face. These were signs that the first round of the girls' assault had been devoted to 'dress up' – Gunn and Fred had apparently fallen in the battle.

They found Wesley sitting behind the counter and he gave them an exhausted smile when he looked up from the book he was reading. He smirked over at his sleeping wife to ensure they'd noted what the twins had done to her before pressing a finger to his mouth and pointing at Angel's office.

As quietly as possible they pushed the door – but immediately had to grab one another and race out into the lobby to control their laughter. After a minute of silent hysterics they crept into the office again, smiling and shaking their heads at the scene.

Angel was passed out on the floor with a twin on either side of him nestled into the crooks of his arms, pink barrettes in his hair, the three of them covered in toys and books and the entire office looking like a tornado had swept through it. A blanket from the couch had been draped over them and they looked up knowing who would have done it.

Lorne slowly opened his eyes where he'd been sleeping beside the baby's crib with his hand on the little guy's back. Spike was on the other side of the crib passed out with his hand similarly draped over the infant's tiny fist. Lorne smirked at the poses of the sleeping vampires and climbed to his feet silently, motioning for Cordelia and Doyle to follow him out into the lobby and closing the door behind them.

"Story time?" Cordelia whispered and Lorne nodded.

"They never get tired of that big softy curling up with them to tell stories. I think it's because the books seem to change every time he reads them." Lorne told her with a smile. "Dr. Seuss becomes a lot more gripping with Angel doing the narration, let me tell you. And with Spike there to egg him on? _Forget about_ _it_. For starters, did you know that Horton heard a Howler demon, not a 'Who'? Yeah, tonight it was a coming-of-age tale about learning to face the minions of hell while maintaining relationships with friends and family – really riveting stuff."

Doyle grinned. "That settles it – I've gotta stick around for the next one."

Cordelia arched a brow. "And did this story they were telling our _little girls_ at any point contain the words '_decapitate'_ or '_dismember'_?"

Lorne opened his mouth hesitantly and Doyle cut in.

"So I see you and Gunn managed to avoid makeup this time around, congratulations." He said, smirking at Cordelia's scowl that he'd avoided her hearing the answer to her question.

"Fred really took one for the team on that one. I think her cheeks are gonna be rosy for a month. And poor Gunn, with all the chasing and giving piggy-back rides he's gonna be out of commission for the next few days. Everybody had a _blast_, even Mr. Stuffy over there was playing hide and seek with them." Lorne said, inclining his head in Wesley's direction as the man raised his book to block his face from view.

Doyle smirked at how Wesley never seemed to want to own up to cutting loose with the children.

"Did they get into it again?" Cordelia asked.

Lorne laughed. "Oh, you mean the debate over which role is more significant – godfather or champion? Yeah they did, Angel went with the old 'well at least they call me Uncle' bit which Spike countered with the 'they don't call me Uncle cuz _unlike_ family you can actually pick your friends – means they _chose _me and got _saddled_ with you straight outta the womb' line. That of course sparked the competition for who could make the girls laugh more…and just between me, you two and the fence post? I think little Miss Selia and Shelagh egg them on and make it worse on purpose. Who can blame'em, though – am I right? Those two big lugs go _gaga_ over those girls…at this rate they're liable to grow up and develop crushes, I mean can you _imagine_ when they hit the boy-crazy phase and realize those guys are never gonna stop looking the way they do? And with them always around saving the day you've gotta figure…" Lorne stopped rambling at that point, eyeing the stunned expression on Doyle's face and realizing this wasn't the sort of thing a father wanted to contemplate.

Doyle's coloring was going paler than usual at the thought of his daughters one day hitting him with, 'Da – I'm in love with (_insert Angel/Spike here_)'.

Lorne cleared his throat, quickly changing the subject as Cordelia smiled at him knowingly and rubbed Doyle's back. "So what about you two crazy kids – how was your night?" He asked.

"_Wonderful_." Cordelia said with a contented smile. "A nice, _quiet, _romantic dinner – time to talk about things not involving demons _or_ diapers which is tough to accomplish these days." She said in an impressed tone, looking over to Doyle who nodded in agreement. "_Annndd…_check out my present!" She beamed, holding up her wrist for inspection.

"Nice! You know, if this boy puts any more diamonds on you I'm gonna have to start wearing sunglasses when you walk through the door." Lorne teased which only made her grin wider.

"We had a great time. No crying or tantrums, well, other than Doyle when I wouldn't let him stop by a sports bar on the way here to get a few more drinks and check the scores." Cordelia said in feigned annoyance before elbowing her husband playfully.

Doyle shrugged. "Hey, it always works for the girls, figured it was worth a try. On a more successful note I did, however, manage to talk Cordy here into another little one." He said, grinning at Lorne over her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her head.

"You seem to start pleading for another baby every year or so until she gives in…just how many tykes are you planning on having?" Lorne asked with a laugh.

Doyle thought about it for a second. "Don't know…never thought of an actual number…say, how many babies can a woman have?" He asked and Cordelia rolled her eyes, wriggling out of his grasp and smacking his chest as he winked at her.

"I'm gonna go wake them up, try not to make any further plans for _my body_ while I'm gone, k?" She said, kissing his cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him bite his lip before going back to Angel's office.

"_Woo_…a lucky man, Lorne…what a lucky man I am…" Doyle breathed and Lorne smiled over at him.

"Cupcake, we both know you don't need to tell me anymore about how much you worship that girl – the first time you sang at the club I had to jump back out of reading you before _I fell in love with her_. The two of you really have something special, it's nice to have around this group – keeps things from getting too bad when they…you know…get too bad." Lorne rambled…but the second Cordelia was in the office he caught Doyle's elbow and led him to the other side of the lobby. "_Listen, I know the golden rule around here about not bringing up prophecies and stuff in front of Cordelia_..." He began in an excited whisper.

Doyle arched a brow at the way he was being ushered along and looked up at the awe in Lorne's eyes. "_Right_…" He said suspiciously.

"But the princesses did something new tonight." He said quietly.

"Tried to put makeup on Angel?" Doyle asked hopefully.

"No…they…told me they wanted to _sing_ for me." Lorne said softly, looking down at Doyle and smiling brightly. "And I gotta tell you, strudel – I think you might actually want to hear this."

**

* * *

**

Author's Note:

Well? :D What d'ya think? Leave me something even if it's two words (_since this fic was well over 84,000 that's not asking too much, right? LOL_) I know a great many readers worry that they 'don't know what to say' in reviews but just say whatever comes to mind! (_Unless of course it's negative, in that case – in the words of Spike, "Sod off!" ;) ha-ha) _

Speaking of Spike, I realize his arc gets a bit murky since in the series he was made corporal by Lindsey and I killed him already, but being how characters never really die in the Whedon-verse I figured you could fill in the blanks whichever way you see fit :D

I hope you enjoyed this – and remember, "If you _**read**_ it, _**FEED**_ it!"

Thanks for reading!


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